


heartlines

by coalitiongirl



Series: Swan Hood and the Evil Queen [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 101,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final sequel to Hearts Left Bleeding and Hearts Awake. Emma and Regina are reunited at last, but at what cost? And with a scheming witch from Regina's past targeting her and mysteries and manipulations unraveling around them, only one thing is clear: not everyone will survive this with their hearts intact.<br/>+</p><p> <i>Snow takes in a ragged breath. “Something happened in between Pan's curse and this morning. Something I can’t remember.”</i></p><p>  <i>“Is that why Emma is in my kitchen trying to kill me?” Regina asks wryly.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FUN FACT- this was actually where I wanted to start the original fic. It's been nearly a _year_ of backstory fic and now we're finally at the place I intended to begin the fic. So. Oops. 
> 
> Anyway, throw out everything you know about 3b! Except Zelena, probably, and a few other common themes. The closest we'll get to canon is going to be the content of NYC Serenade and Witch Hunt, and those will be mostly done by the end of this chapter. 
> 
> If you recall where we left off, Emma had just rallied up her Merry Men and Regina had just said goodbye to Henry and sent him over the town line with David while she stopped Pan's curse. This fic will contain Parts III and IV of the story, so don't be confused about that! 
> 
> And I'm so glad that y'all are back with me for this fic (I hope), I promise I'll start making things better now! We had to pile on all the baggage but now it's time to unpack. Promise. :) 
> 
> There is a brief reference to cutting in this chapter.

** PART III **

“Rocinante! _Rocinante!_ ” Emma is left desperately pressing her heels in her stirrups as Rocinante bolts through the woods, yanking at the reins and getting only an explosive bray in return. “Rocinante, _no_!” 

The purple cloud has dissipated, the magic gone again, and the land is different already. There’s a murmur of life to it like Emma hasn’t sensed in so long, more birds and horses and the forest feels like it’s finally _back_ , like this isn’t a dead land swamped with flying monkeys and ogres anymore. And Emma knows exactly where Rocinante is running and she _won’t_ , she _can’t_ , not yet. She isn’t prepared for what she has to do and–

She manages to twist Rocinante just a bit, enough to have him slow and run at a slightly different angle than he’d been going, and now when she digs in her heels, he finally begins to falter. “Good boy. Good,” she murmurs, running her fingers through his mane. “We just need to…” 

She freezes, catching sight of an unwelcome presence in the woods. Two horses, passing through a path ahead of them, and astride one sits a woman Emma’s seen only once before, hook at the end of her arm glittering in the sunlight. _Milah_. And a second woman beside her, one who looks vaguely familiar. “I don’t even know if I trust you,” the second woman is saying. The accent is one of the northlands, and Emma finally places her and blinks in surprise.

_Belle_. Rumple’s old maid. Emma had thought Zelena must have killed her. But now she’s riding with Milah and darting cautious glances at her and Milah says, “You don’t have to trust me. But trust that I can give you what you’ve always wanted.” She smiles. There’s no malice, but she looks dangerous, promise on her lips and the great unknown in her eyes. “You help me find my ship and you get all the adventure you’ve ever wanted. Everyone wins.” 

“That depends on what _winning_ means,” Belle says warily.

“Did winning mean sitting in a pawn shop for the rest of your life, darning his socks? I know you. I _was_ you.” Milah rides on and Belle looks outraged but Emma misses her response, Rocinante’s head already listing back in the same direction he’d been running before.

She tugs him to the side and they compromise with a brisk trot still in the wrong direction. Emma can hear more voices now, a bit further down the road, and she rides alongside them toward a darker corner of the forest. 

She listens only briefly for the sound of a boy whose voice she can still remember and hears nothing. 

Nothing…and then a screech, high-pitched and threatening, and Emma turns and rides forward on instinct, squinting up at the sky as a long-winged monkey shoots up and then down again a couple hundred feet ahead. There’s a flash of orange and then a shout- a shout she _knows_ , and she flies forward, drawing her bow, and snaps, “Get down!” and fires, eyes on the monkey and not the two people it’s trying to kill. 

Her arrow flies true, impaling the monkey in the shoulder- _sorry, Friar Tuck_ \- and it screeches again and hurtles off, back to Zelena. Emma dismounts and steps forward. “Snow?” she ventures, because that had been her, hadn’t it?

“ _Emma!_ ” Snow is flying to her, arms out and tears already streaming from her cheeks, and Emma buries herself in Snow’s arms, her own eyes suddenly cloudy and sightless. It seems like years since their last conflict, all in vain at the end, and she holds tightly to her as Snow kisses her cheek and chants, _You’re alive, you’re alive, Emma, Emma,_ over and over again. 

She feels the prickle as though she’s being watched and she remembers seeing a second figure out of the corner of her eye, one she hadn’t focused on upon hearing Snow’s shout. David. Of course it’ll be David. “Yeah, I’m alive,” she says, a smile spreading across her face as she separates from Snow to turn to him–

Regina stares back at her, devastatingly beautiful and her eyes stricken as she gazes at Emma. Emma is frozen in place, gaping at her. “Oh,” she manages.

“Emma,” Regina breathes, and Emma returns to herself at her voice.

She’s charging forward a moment later, all fists and fury and Snow has to seize onto her and hold her back. “Emma, stop! She’s on our side! She’s one of us now! Emma!” 

“Where’s my son?” she demands, struggling against Snow, attempting to push past her without hurting her. Snow seizes her wrists and she strains to break free. “What the fuck have you done with him? Henry! Where’s Henry?” 

She tears away from Snow and crosses the distance between her and a still-seated Regina, on the ground in her finest queenly clothes and an opaque mask descending over her features. She struggles to breathe in the face of Regina’s empty look and fails. “What…what happened to…I’ll kill you,” she croaks. She reaches for her bow and finds it missing.

“Emma, _please_.” It’s the plea that has her turning to face Snow again. Tearing her eyes from Regina is always a struggle, even more so when she’s furious and drawn to her anyway, when she needs to _know_ about Henry and Regina is here and it’s hard to believe that she’s real. That any of this is… 

“What happened in Neverland?” she demands.

Snow starts. “How did you know about Neverland?” 

“What. Happened. Where is Henry.” It isn’t a question anymore but a demand, and her face is tight and cold and Regina stands on her own behind her and Emma takes a step away from her.

Snow squeezes her hand around Emma’s bow. “I can’t let you hurt Regina,” she says. “We saved Henry from Peter Pan. And then Pan tried to curse us all. Regina was able to save everyone, but at a price.” Her eyes convey exactly _what_ that price had been, and Emma is nauseous at once.

She rounds on Regina, eyes flashing. “You gave up Henry for the lives of these assholes?” She’d made the opposite decision once and had paid dearly for it, but she’d thought that Regina, at least, would have backed her up in that. Would _never_ have put the greater good ahead of Henry.

Regina stares silently at her, unreadable. “He’s safe,” Snow hurries on. “He’s happy. He’s with David,” she says, and her face crumples.

Unless Regina had been so sure that Henry would be all right, and broken both their hearts in the process. “Oh, no,” she whispers, distracted from her own plight at the brokenness on Snow’s face. “Snow, I’m sorry.” Snow is back in her arms a moment later, chin on Emma's shoulder and her body quivering with unshed tears, and Emma stares down at the ground with determined focus, anywhere but at the woman whose eyes are boring into her back.

And then, a choked, “Rocinante!” and Regina is moving past them, pressing her cheek to Rocinante’s mane and Emma holds onto Snow and peeks at them from the corner of her eye. Rocinante is rumbling against her like a pleased cat and Regina has an arm under his neck, her hand pressing against the other side of his jaw. She’s shaking slightly and Emma hates her, hates her for taking Henry away again when she’d finally believed…

She says, “Let me ride with your camp,” and refuses to look at Regina again.

* * *

Neal and Lancelot and Mulan are all received by the caravan with more excitement than she’d been, and she sulks on the side with Red while the others fawn over the “war heroes” and “old allies.” 

“I’m happy you’re here,” Red offers. “We’ve been worried about you for years. Thought you might be dead for a while there. Good to see you alive.” 

“Thanks.” Neal, meanwhile, is saddling a new horse up to leave already, and she hurries over to him. “I thought you were trying to get back to your family?” 

“My papa is dead.” The Dark One gone at last, and she’s relieved over that even if Snow had called him an ally now. Her tolerance only goes so far. “Henry is back in another world. And my mother apparently left the group to go find her ship as soon as they got here.” He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “She’s all I have.” 

“Your mother is Captain Hook,” Emma says, making the connection. “Of course she is.” Neal’s family tree is considerably more fucked up than her own, and she'd had a set of doppelgangers for long-lost brothers. 

“Take care of yourself, Emma.” He smiles and it’s brotherly, whatever old attraction had been there for him long gone with the years that had passed for him. She manages a smile in return and leans against Beetle, watching him go. Another Merry Man lost. Two, maybe, if Lancelot returns to Snow’s service.

“You look like a lovesick child,” Regina mutters behind her.

“You look like an evil witch,” Emma mutters back, hatred still simmering enough that she doesn’t correct her.

“At least I don’t stink of the woods.” Regina brushes past her, head held high and gait arrogant, and Emma loathes her with all she has.

“Incoming!” Mulan shouts, and Emma sees the monkey return, swooping down to where Snow is standing in the middle of the road. She raises her bow, running forward, but Regina gets there first, hurling a blast of magic at the monkey that has it vanishing in a burst of green light an instant later. She turns, Snow still positioned behind her, and mutters something that has Snow nodding unsteadily.

Emma hates her, hates this stranger wearing Regina’s face who looks at Snow like that, hates this stranger wearing Regina’s face who’s had the luxury of years and years to reinvent herself when she’d never even tried before. Not when it had been Emma and Henry and the world in the balance, not when it might’ve meant that they could have been _happy_. No, of course Regina’s switched sides once they’ve all been torn apart with no chance of reunion.

She isn’t being fair. She knows she’s being unfair. They’re fortunate that she’s just one less threat to worry about, and she has no idea what’s happened to Regina since they’d last seen each other. But she doesn’t care. Not when she’s lost so much for Regina’s whims, had loved her and tried to make the best choices for them all and had been left in the dust for it. Emma had never been a consideration in Regina’s redemption. _Fuck her_ , she thinks savagely, and stalks over toward Regina to…probably be an asshole. She hasn’t decided what she’s going to say yet.

The others begin to mill around them, setting out tents and tying up horses, and Regina is staring at the energy field that surrounds her old castle. They’re supposed to be heading there for shelter, but it seems like a moot point now, and she’s restless enough to pick a well-earned fight.

“You’re thinking about Henry, aren’t you,” Snow is saying.

“I’m always thinking about Henry.” But Regina turns, eyes glinting with new energy, and she says to Snow, “But I was also thinking…there are tunnels running beneath the castle that may run beneath the spell.” 

“You want to sneak an army inside?” Emma interrupts. “And they’re supposed to _trust_ you?” 

Regina doesn’t look at her, but she does respond. “An army would be detected. But the tunnels can get me inside to lower the shield.” She smirks at Snow. “And then you can send in an army.” There’s a moment of hesitation between the other two women, and Regina murmurs, “If you’ll be safe here until then. I made a promise–“ 

“I’ll be fine.” Snow takes her hands and musters up a wan smile. “I can take care of myself. And I have Ruby and Mulan and Lancelot and of course Emma’s here.” 

“I’m going with Regina,” Emma puts in, eyes distrustful on Regina. Next…she can do what comes next. What she has to do.

Regina says coolly, “Very well.” She holds onto Snow’s hands for another long moment and then abruptly turns, dropping them and speaking in a low voice to Red so they can’t hear. She’s writing something down now, handing it off to Red, and Emma’s eyes narrow.

Snow says, “Emma, she’s just lost her son.” 

“I know,” Emma says tightly. “I lost him eight and a half years before she did.”

“She loves you,” Snow murmurs, and Emma stiffens. “She’s loved you this whole time. I know you’re angry, but that has to mean something, right?” Her eyes are pleading and Emma thinks of Snow who’s lost David, who’s struggling to cling to some affirmation of love right now. Who’s searching desperately for it and is just wrecked enough to believe that _she and Regina_ are a safe bet.

“It doesn’t mean a fucking thing,” she snaps, and stalks off toward the woods, waiting away from the crowd for Regina to join her.

* * *

“Follow me.” Regina walks carefully along the cracks of yet another booby trap.

Emma hoists her bow up and follows, stomping on the ground. There’s a flare of fire beneath her and Regina yanks her forward as the closest stone erupts into a geyser. She stands still, stiff against Regina’s grasp, and Regina bites out, “I said, _follow me_. If you’re going to be stubborn about this, you’re going to die.” 

“And finish off what you started last time I went visiting at your castle?” Emma suggests. Regina winces. It’s very slight but the first sign of life from her beyond irritation since they’d left toward these tunnels. Emma presses onward. “Is that why you agreed that I’d come with you? So you can finally murder me without Snow finding out?” She’s speaking rapidly now, spelling out her own guilt and forcing it on Regina instead, and she switches tacks at once. “What’s the deal with you and Snow? You got over all those years of wiping out villages trying to kill her?” 

“For the first few months, he asked about you every day,” Regina says instead, and Emma falls silent. “'Where’s Ma? What happened to Ma? When is Ma coming home?' I never knew what to say because I never knew where you were. And I kept promising, ‘ _Soon, soon_ ,’ and then finally he stopped believing me. It was the first time he ever lost faith and it killed me to see it.” She’s staring straight ahead and Emma can’t see her face. “It killed me not to know. For him. For you.” 

“Stop it,” Emma says, her voice scratchy and rough and her heart in her throat. She notices suddenly that she has a hand clamped on her bow, and she pries her fingers off of it subtly.

“I didn’t know my mother stopped you from crossing over with the curse. Not until she came to Storybrooke. You were always meant to be there.” Regina’s voice is very smooth, no cadence to it to reveal anything deeper than cold facts, and Emma stares at her.

“And if the curse had taken me? What were you going to do with me?” Punish her, probably, have her see Henry every day and never get to touch him. Have her suffer in whatever hapless way she’s sure Snow had and be forced to live that life for seven years. She can imagine what Regina would have done with her.

“You don’t want to know that,” Regina says, passing between a wall of spikes. Which is as good a confirmation as any. “Snow killed my mother.”

If she’s looking for compassion, she won’t get it here. “Good.” Regina might not have meant to separate her from Henry, but she’d _done_ it, she and Cora, and Emma isn’t in a forgiving mood. Cora is dead and gone, and she’s glad. Regina still stands, and that’s unjust enough for now.

For now.

“She tricked me into doing it for her, actually. I thought I was saving both of them.” Regina holds out a hand when Emma stumbles into her and a shock goes through Emma’s whole body. Touching Regina is as electric as ever before, still overwhelming in the emotion and loss that comes with it. She staggers again and takes a step back. “It was cruel. Ruthless.”

“Necessary,” Emma counters, feeling a bit sick. She won’t feel any mercy for Regina, not now. Not ever again.

“Very necessary,” Regina agrees. “I was proud when I wasn’t planning her impending doom.” She half-smiles, but there’s so much grief in it that Emma misses out on the joke entirely. “I suppose she felt guilty. We mended things after that.” 

“That simple?” Decades of hatred, fixed with a single event? Emma doesn’t believe it.

“Never that simple.” They’re inside the castle now, walking up stairs that open into Regina’s quarters. Regina hastily moves in the other direction, leading the way down to the outside hall that her balcony overlooks. “Do you want to hear about Henry’s first day of school?”

Yes, she does, more than anything. Oh, god. She trembles and says, “No.” 

Regina tells her.

* * *

They reach the outside hall where the barrier spell is being kept, a long green beacon to the sky, and Emma draws her bow and turns away from Regina. “You disable it. I’ll keep an eye out for the witch. I owe her a few arrows to the throat.” 

“Were you always this bloodthirsty?” Regina says it reflectively, a hint of teasing in her voice, and Emma’s angry again. The darkness surrounding them in the tunnels had been freeing, easier to talk in than this harsh green-lit hall just under Regina’s old balcony. Out here, Emma’s weighted by the past even more, her pain warped and redefined into a weapon.

“No,” she says. “You were. And here we are.” 

“Here we are,” Regina agrees, and she reaches out to the pillar of magic, holds her hand steady and sucks the magic from it until the spell dissipates. Regina doing magic now has Emma still breathless, still awed and terrified, and she bites back the emotions that surface as Regina turns back to her. “All right,” Regina says. There’s almost nothing on her face, not even resignation, and maybe just a hint of desire. “You can do it now.”

Emma’s hand seizes up around her bow. “What?” 

“Isn’t that why you’re here, Emma?” Regina smiles at her. It’s sad and restrained and it sends shockwaves of hurt through Emma’s system. “You came to this castle to kill me.”

* * *

Yeah. Yeah, she did. Regina has hurt too many to be welcomed back into the fold. Regina has hurt _her_ , has taken away the only one who’d ever mattered to her and taken years she can never get back. Regina is the villain of this piece and Regina doesn’t deserve to live anymore.

Emma wants her dead. Emma wants to kill her. Emma wants...

She brandishes the bow and curses her fingers for how they go limp around it. “Are you going to stop me?”

“If I’m going to die for any of my sins, I’d rather it be the pain I’ve inflicted on you,” Regina murmurs. “I have no greater regrets.” She sighs at the indecision on Emma’s face. “Oh, come on. Don’t go weak on me now. Think about what you’ve missed. What I’ve _taken_ from you. Didn’t you hear the stories?” That's what that had been in the tunnels, Regina maneuvering her and stoking the flames of hate to grow, grow, grow. “No one deserves this moment more than you.” 

Emma stares at her, uncertain. “Why do you want to die so much?” Regina _does_ , and it’s written all over her face. For all of Emma’s determination and hatred for Regina, for the stolen years and the misery that preceded them, for a dozen sore points still left open, it’s a struggle to muster up murderous intent now. But Regina seems prepared to accept her end.

“Why do you want to kill?” Regina counters, and Emma’s fingers slide down along the tail of the arrow, tiny feathers soft against her skin.

“Henry,” she whispers.

“Henry,” Regina agrees, sitting down on the steps. She’s smaller like this, more vulnerable, an easy target. Emma swallows hard and struggles to keep the arrow steady. “I’m yours, Emma. Do with me what you will. I have nothing else that matters. I can never see–“ She chokes on the word. “He’s lost to me forever.” 

Regina hasn’t looked this open since the night she’d first traded away the curse. Emma had thought then that she’d only been a woman wearing a dress, the Evil Queen locked away. Today she’s only ever been a woman in a dress in front of everyone.

That night she’d been naked and they’d been sobbing and making love at once, Regina spread before her and Emma buried inside her and it had felt like a mournful concession instead of a revelation. Today Regina is open before her for another mournful concession. _I’m yours, Emma._

She won’t play…whatever game this is. She can’t execute a willing victim, not like this. Not _Regina._ “I…” she starts, and her finger slips.

She doesn’t know if it’s accidental or not, if somehow subconsciously she hadn’t been able to let Regina escape this. She doesn’t have more than a split second to contemplate it, to catch the naked grief on Regina’s face and to feel her own face twist into devastation–

–And then the arrow vanishes and they’re left staring at each other in wide-eyed terror as Zelena drawls, “Now that would be a tragic waste of a perfectly good heart.” 

Emma spins around. Zelena, green-skinned again and in a very familiar dress, toys with the arrow in her hand. “Zelena,” she says warily.

“Zelena?” Regina echoes, and Emma turns back. Regina won’t quite look at her, but her eyes are fixed on Zelena with a perplexed sort of familiarity. “Did you say Zelena?” 

A smile spreads across Zelena’s face, dark and hungry like she’s come to play at last and Regina is the toy she’s been waiting for. “Hello, Regina. It’s been a while.” 

Regina gapes at her. “You’re not…but how did you… you’re green.” And yet there’s still recognition in her voice. Do all witches know each other? Is there some kind of magical witch sisterhood?

“And you’re rude,” Zelena shoots back. “No great welcome for your big sister?”

Regina blinks and Emma remembers with a churning stomach Zelena telling her about her family.  _I was the bastard daughter of a woman who married the fifth son of a king. I spent most of my childhood cleaning to earn my keep. My sister…_

Regina’s never mentioned a sister. Henry Sr. had once, though, and she’d forgotten to bring it up to Regina after. And now Regina is shaking her head as though she’s just as confused as Emma. “Sister?” she repeats. “That’s impossible.” 

“Cora never told you. Of course she didn’t.” Zelena sniffs, dropping the arrow, and Regina is still open-mouthed and staring at her. “I was the bastard dirty little secret, meant to be your playmate and your bodyguard. Never your equal. Never your _sister_. Just another girl to be discarded when I became inconvenient.”

“You weren’t inconvenient.” Regina is looking vulnerable again, taken aback with a short smile as veneer for the uncertainty Emma can see lurking beneath it. “I told you I’d never leave you alone and I meant it. My…sister?” 

“You _lied_. You ruined my life and you left me alone to suffer.” Zelena sneers at her. “Well, now it’s your turn. I’m going to take everything away from you.” 

Regina recovers at the threat. “You can have my skin cream if you think it’ll help. I see you’ve already taken my dress,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “It’s atrocious with your complexion. Have you considered something brown?” 

“Have you considered shutting up?” Zelena snarls at her, tossing her hair, and oh _yes_ , there’s the family connection, squabbling sisters already. Emma takes a step forward, raising her bow again. And abruptly, she’s hanging in midair, Zelena holding her pinned in place as she windmills desperately, snapping out a curse. “Everything,” Zelena repeats, flicking a lazy finger at Emma.

Emma chokes in midair, her eyesight going fuzzy, and suddenly she’s flying above the trees again in her mind, caught against the shadow to Neverland and being thrown. She sees grey death and terror and her heart is racing, her hands flying in helpless circles and her head pounding and stomach falling out from under her. 

“Over my dead body.” Regina waves her hand and Emma is dropping again, but this time she lands in a crouch just in front of where Regina’s sitting. A light hand is on her shoulder now, gentle and possessive and Emma shakes under it, still sees nothing but grey and falling to the trees..

“That is the eventual plan,” Zelena agrees, and Emma fires an arrow at her blindly. It clatters somewhere near them and Regina pulls Emma back, stands in front of her as Zelena’s eyes flash and a monkey hurtles into the room. “You were always so tiresome,” Zelena grouses, glaring at a still half-present Emma- _Neverland, dropping through the trees, HenryHenryHenry–_  “I’m going to make both of you suffer.”

“Bring it,” Regina growls, and whatever gentleness had wormed its way into her earlier interactions with Zelena, it’s gone now. “You touch Emma and I kill you, no matter who you are. If you’re my–” She swallows.

Zelena smiles, cold and unfriendly, and Emma’s seen  _that_ face in the mirror enough to catch the anger and the hurt beneath it. “You work on that. See you around, sis.” She holds out her hand and a broom appears in it, and she’s cackling and flying off before Emma can can fire another arrow at her.

Emma twitches and falls, feeling droplets of sweat sliding down her forehead into her eyes, and gentle hands cradle her face. “Emma, listen to my voice,” Regina murmurs. “Focus on that. Since when are you afraid of heights?”

“Bad fall,” Emma croaks, opening her eyes. Regina gazes back, eyes determined and concerned, and Emma can’t help the way her heart surges to life with Regina this close to her. “Trying to get to Henry.” She struggles to hold onto the resentment, onto the years of loathing a woman who doesn’t seem to exist anymore, and she grasps it just barely. _Henry_ , she thinks again, and they’re both crying silently when she looks up, tears sliding down Regina’s face and down the fingers still on Emma’s cheeks.

“Are you ready to kill me now?” Regina whispers, and this time, she doesn’t disguise the pleading in her voice. And then she goes on, hurriedly, as though she really does believe her time is running out, “I promised David that Snow wouldn’t be alone. I need you to stay with her and keep her safe. Make sure she doesn’t appear weak in front of the people while she mourns him. Zelena will want me. I don’t know how she’ll react once I’m dead, but she might be willing to cut a deal with you after. In my quarters here, you’ll find–“ 

“Regina,” Emma says faintly, and Regina falls silent. “I’m not…I can’t…” She struggles to find the hate again, useless as it is now. “What gives you the right to give up now when you wouldn’t give that to anyone else? _Seven years_ , Regina!”

Regina opens her mouth and Emma cuts her off. “You can’t just… _quit_ just because life isn’t going your way anymore.” She’s still crying, sitting on the steps below Regina and ducking her head so her hair covers her face. “We don’t get to say  _‘No Henry, so I guess I’ll die_.’” Regina reacts at the _we_ , puts a hand on her arm, and Emma twists away from her, her voice low and rough. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to live after losing him?” She’d fought ogres and cleaned house and sometimes watched Aladdin’s Aziz, just about Henry’s age, and she’d curled up in corners of the castle with her head on her knees and a knife pressed to her own wrist. And every time, she’d reminded herself that she was _needed_ , that she couldn’t quit now. “To go through…day by day…just knowing that you…” 

She takes in a shuddering breath and Regina hurries to cut in. “I do know that.” Her eyes are dark now, mournful and brooding. “I did it too, remember?” A year and a half from Regina’s final defeat until the curse. A year and a half Regina had spent without Henry. They’ve spent so long trying to do what they’d thought had been best for him that all they’d done was lose, lose, _lose_.

But Emma had had valid reasons to keep Regina from him. Regina had… She clenches her fists and waits for Regina to snap at her so she can retort. “Emma,” Regina says instead, and it’s sorrowful like a young queen alone in a carriage with only her loneliness and regrets. “I wish I’d never…I’ve had a lot of time to think. And I put you through so much. I hurt you–” 

She raises her face and breathes, and the sincerity in her eyes is terrifying when Emma finally peers up at her. She could get lost in it, love Regina again as she had when she'd been a girl and forget all her resentment. Regina has always been too easy to love, but like this, it’s an inevitability.

“Well. It was kind of mutual.” Emma's voice cracks and she’s turning inside out, resentment harder than ever to muster. “And you know you helped more than you ever hurt me,” she admits grudgingly. “Up until the curse. You were the reason Henry and I were safe.” 

“I was the reason you were in so much pain.” 

“Yeah. But you…” Regina hadn’t tried to hurt her, not until the end. Emma had just been collateral damage in her vendetta against Snow. She’d trusted Regina with Henry and her safety, if not their hearts. “Tell me he was happy,” she says urgently. “With you. Tell me he was happy.” She doesn’t doubt that Regina had loved him, that Regina had done everything in her power to keep him safe. But if he’d been reduced to what Emma had been, watching Regina destroy and be destroyed and helpless to fight back…

“He was happy,” Regina murmurs. “He never let me make the mistakes I made with you.” And Emma feels a stab of something that can’t be jealousy. Because Henry is their _son_ and of course he’d never allowed himself to be Regina’s collateral damage. Of course Regina had loved him enough to cast aside her vengeance. Emma is irrelevant to this story.

And Emma doesn’t give a damn about Regina’s love anymore unless it’s about Henry. “Yeah, okay. Good.” Regina’s face is warm like sunshine and Emma hasn’t seen her like this in so long that it’s almost like a mockery of the real Regina, a twisted reimagining of the woman she’d loved into the woman she’d always wanted to see again.

Regina says, “Emma…” and her eyes are searching, struggling to find meaning in whatever she can read on Emma’s face.

“I do still hate you,” Emma bites out, uncertain and longing and terrified, and she jerks away to stand, stalking from the hall down the path to where she can see Snow’s camp moving toward them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. I am behind on reviews again (blame zimbio omg) but I didn't think it was fair to withhold this from you for any longer just because I'm the one who sucks, SO. I am reading all your responses and they're very much helpful to me, thank you! I will hopefully get to them all tonight or sometime SOON. 
> 
> Trigger warning in this chapter for talk of Leopold and marital rape. Also insects.

Snow is racing ahead of the others, Red keeping a close distance, and Emma emerges from the castle and is nearly bowled over by her. “Where is she? Where’s Regina?” She staggers to a halt just as Regina comes out behind Emma. “Regina, what the hell?” Now she’s waving the note Regina had written at her and Emma puts a calming hand on her shoulder. Snow shrugs it off. “Were you trying to  _die_ ?” 

 

Regina is a cross between sheepish and sulky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters, and Emma clasps her hands behind her back and tries to look innocent. Snow barely spares her a look. “I’m fine.” 

 

“You promised,” Snow says, breathless. “You promised David you’d stay with me. We’re supposed to be a team here. You can’t run off challenging witches and leaving me _suicide notes_!” She waves the note again and Emma chews on her lip and avoids Red’s curious eyes.

 

Regina rolls her eyes and refuses to say any more, the both of them sullen children under Snow’s reproof, stomping their way back into the castle. Well. Emma stomps. Regina stalks.

 

There are more people here now, a few other groups of displaced people, and they all gather together in Regina’s council room. Emma hasn’t been there very much. Regina tended to give orders more than seek counsel. “We’ll send out as many scouts as we can to try to bring people to the castle,” Snow announces to the assembled people. “We don’t know when the witch will strike again and it’s best that we’re all safe here. Emma, Lancelot, can you two organize that?” They nod. “Sleeping arrangements are as efficient as you can handle. We need to conserve space for newcomers.” 

 

She leans back, looking very tired, and Emma works quickly, breaking up groups into teams and sending them on their way. “Zelena might be picking them off and turning them into monkeys by now, we don’t know. Move fast.” The hall empties, the few who remain wandering up and downstairs to find suitable corners, and Regina still sits stiffly beside Snow, avoiding Emma’s eyes.

 

“Uh. So…I think I’ll have my men rooming together in one room, and Mulan and I can take another.” She’d seen the way Mulan had blanched when Princess Aurora had run to her back in the woods, and she’s feeling protective. Mulan had left with Aurora’s husband to search Midas’s former kingdom and Aurora had spoken about finding quarters for them all. Mulan doesn’t deserve that. 

 

But Snow is shaking her head. “Emma, no. Your men and Mulan can share a suite. You have to stay with me. It’s been so long.” Her eyes are pleading, lonely enough without David that Emma falters. “We’ve missed so much of each other’s lives.” She puts a hand on Regina’s arm. “All three of us. We’ll take my father’s quarters.” 

 

“No!” Emma and Regina both say at once. Regina doesn’t look at her, but her face has dimmed and her fingers are pressed to her palm until they turn white.

 

She gathers her skirts and stands haughtily. “I will be staying in my quarters.” 

 

Snow frowns. “We need the authority that the king’s quarters will give me. This isn’t Storybrooke anymore. There are dozens of kingdoms that will need to cede to us.” 

 

“I managed just fine,” Regina says coolly, but she’s shaking, and Snow tilts her chin up, eyeing her with irritated confusion.

 

Emma says, “Snow, you can stay in Regina’s rooms. There’s plenty of space and no one’s going to question you two, okay?” Anywhere but Leopold’s old rooms. Even Regina doesn’t deserve that kind of torture. She plays her ace. “It’s there or I’ll stay with my men instead.” 

 

Regina shoots her an uncertain look. Emma ignores it. Snow mutters, “Fine,” and stands, Regina trailing behind her. “I don’t know why you never moved–“ 

 

“Snow!” Emma snaps disbelievingly, and Snow turns to stare at her, still uncomprehending. Regina moves ahead of them, heels clipping against stone like a spooked horse’s hoofbeats, and Snow glances from her to Emma and shakes her head again as she follows.

 

Regina’s quarters still look the same when they enter them, and Emma feels a stab of nostalgia that she manages to hide a moment later. Here is the birthplace of some of her happiest memories, of _Henry_ and _Regina_ and the only love and family she’d ever truly had. She hesitates in the hall as Snow walks forward and Regina moves slowly, inspecting the room that Zelena had clearly made her own. 

 

There’s no dust on the table and Regina frowns and inspects the books that Zelena had left stacked on it, flipping through the pages just as Snow gasps. “Oh, no.” She’s staring into the nursery, a hand over her mouth, and Emma crosses the hall in quick steps. Regina remains at the table. “Oh, Emma, Regina, I’m so sorry.” 

 

The nursery is in shambles. The crib has been smashed to pieces, the hangings they’d had on the wall shredded, and Henry’s old wall of stuffed elephants (he’d been so enamored with them that Regina had once talked about purchasing a real one for him with such a deadpan tone that Emma hadn’t known if she was kidding or not) have been attacked, stuffing everywhere and baby clothes strewn across the room. “Zelena did this?” Emma whispers. There’s so much hate and desperation behind this that she feels a thrill of terror for Henry in another world, with an enemy he’s never met. Who else would have…

 

“No,” Regina says from the table. Her eyes are fixed on the books in front of her and she hasn’t met Emma’s eyes once since her failed attempt to have her kill her. “Zelena didn’t do that.” 

 

“Oh,” Emma whispers, the air emptying from her lungs. And now she notices the dust that coats everything in the room, even animal innards and crib slats. No, Zelena hadn’t been the one to succumb to that level of rage. 

 

She sneaks a look at Regina and sees that she isn’t scanning the pages of the book anymore; her eyes are unfocused and hopeless and Emma doesn’t have to imagine how much it would have hurt to have Henry taken from her.

 

Well. She’d gotten her revenge. She stalks forward into the room and swallows the lump in her throat at the sight of Henry's mobile flung against a wall until the little glass unicorns had shattered. And she feels an odd kind of peace at being surrounded by this much destruction. “Thea had a room on the far side of these quarters,” she says. “It was pretty nice, from what I remember. You think you’ll be okay there if I take this one?” 

 

“Don’t you want to clean this up?” Snow asks, forehead wrinkling with confusion.

 

Emma sits on her old bed- the one she’d rarely used at first, when she’d come to the castle and been afraid to sleep at night. Here are reminders of kindness, more than Regina had granted anyone in this world. Here are reminders of pain and what a scorned Regina is capable of. “No,” she says, and stretches out across a dusty bedspread, fully clothed, and closes her eyes.

 

She can sense Regina hesitate in front of the nursery- hear her steps and soft breath, smell the faintest perfume wafting in from the doorway, see the light from the hall obscured for a moment as Regina stands in front of it- but she keeps her breath even and Regina moves on to her old room.

 

* * *

 

And so life resumes into something unlike anything Emma had ever known. She’d once have battled empires for this kind of peace between Regina and Snow, but now she grits her teeth and avoids Regina in their rooms. Regina, for her part, seems content with avoiding her right back, whatever they’d worked out in their fight with Zelena replaced with stiffness and embarrassment around Emma.

 

So Emma is tense when approached and Regina is tense right back at her, and both of them rarely allow themselves to be alone together. Regina is alone more often than not, her bedroom sealed, and Emma leaves on scouting missions with the others and doesn’t glance up at Regina’s window from outside too often.

 

For now, they’re all focused on consolidating the old kingdom and preparing for Zelena’s next attack. “She’s just after Regina,” Emma says one evening when she’s walking with Snow. They don’t ride too often anymore. Snow has found that the years away from riding have meant that she’s sick when she spends too long on a horse or near one. “That’s what it seems like to me.” She leaves the sentence open-ended and waits for Snow to understand.

 

Snow catches on at once, slowly shaking her head. “You aren’t saying that we…” 

 

“I have that cabin in the woods,” Emma reminds her. “It’s supposed to be shielded from magic. I can take her there or to the Dark Castle, and we can shift Zelena’s attention from all the refugees to just Regina and me.” 

 

Snow shakes her head again. “We’re not exiling her just because she has this new enemy. And the witch turned two of your men into flying monkeys long before Regina was here. This land…we can’t afford to lose people here because they’re inconvenient.” She squeezes Emma’s hand and when Emma turns, it’s to see Snow studying her silently, brow furrowed.

 

“What?” she says, self-conscious.

 

“It’s just…” Snow smiles, her eyes melancholy behind it. “It wasn’t that bad in Storybrooke. Once we were unfrozen, we were all together, safer and more united and content than we’d ever been here. For all Regina’s big threats about ending our happy endings, there wasn’t much in the way of consequences once we were free. And I keep thinking that of all the suffering Regina had meant to wreak on us, it was you who was the greatest casualty.” 

 

Emma swallows and forces a smile. It wobbles and her voice emerges, equally wobbly. “I did okay here. Killed a lot of ogres. Cleaned out the Dark Castle.” 

 

Her voice wavers again and Snow says, “Oh, _Emma,_ ” and she’s being wrapped into Snow’s warm embrace, hugged tightly until she’s supported by Snow and she can cry silently for the years of loss.

 

She stays there for a long time. Snow doesn’t speak, doesn’t push her forward, and she reflects for a moment on how much Snow had changed in their missing years, because the Snow she’d left behind had been loving and compassionate but had never quite learned about what silence can be. Regina and Emma live in silences, in what is left unsaid rather than tearful confessions, and Snow has finally caught up with them like this.

 

Who had Mary Margaret Blanchard been? Emma doesn’t know. Emma wishes she’d known. Emma wishes she’d been in this town they all seem to speak of with guilty yearning, the place that had been cursed but not a curse at all, and she closes her eyes and tries to imagine growing up with Henry in another land. “I wish I’d been there,” she finally confesses in a whisper. 

 

“I wish you’d been there, too.” Snow pulls away, her hands still on Emma’s shoulders, and she says- because she still _is_ Snow- “And I know you’re angry with Regina, but you’d understand each other now. You’ve both lost the same…I think you could take care of each other if you let yourselves.”

 

“Snow, she _took my son away_. For almost nine years of his life.” She sounds spent when she admits it, the exhaustion of keeping up her rage too much without a simple foe. “I don’t want to play nice with her now that her own vileness has caught up with her.” 

 

“She’s changed. She doesn’t hurt people anymore.” 

 

“I don’t care!” She doesn’t care about this Regina who gathers her layers around her and hides within them, who mourns as though she has any _right_ to… “I liked her just fine when she was still…” _When she didn’t hurt me_ , she thinks, and flushes at her own selfishness and falls silent. 

 

“She was a good mayor,” Snow says, changing the subject wisely, though her eyes are already searching Emma for answers to a question she hasn’t asked yet. “I think she might do better with this kingdom than I have. I never knew how to rule, just how to fight Regina. My father was much better at…” She pauses. “My father,” she repeats, her gaze fixed on Emma. Emma realizes too late that she’d flinched. “What did my father do to Regina?” 

 

So she _had_ been paying attention to Regina’s stiffness when they’d been talking about room assignments. For a moment, Emma thinks about telling her to talk to Regina instead, and winces at her own bullishness. No, Regina shouldn’t have to explain any of that to his daughter. “What do you think he did to her?” she asks wearily.

 

Snow shakes her head. “My father…he wouldn’t…” 

 

“I’m sure he didn’t think that he was.” She remembers Regina beneath her as Emma had been kissing her, muffling her own cries because she’d been _taught_ to, to be silent and still and nothing more than a body. She hates Leopold still with all she has. And this is his daughter struggling. “He picked out a mother for you, gave her no choices, and she was to be his wife. And so she was.” 

 

Snow stares wide-eyed at her, still somehow a child in this moment. “I thought…I thought it was all about Daniel.” 

 

“It was.” She shifts in place, uncomfortable with discussion of him, and adds, “But it was never just about him as much as what came next. That many years of being in that castle, left to fester in her misery… Regina became who she became.” 

 

“But you loved her.” Snow has let her shoulders go but now she seizes Emma’s hand in her own. “You loved her and you…you get her, don’t you? Even now. You’re only punishing yourselves by staying apart like this.” Emma stays stubbornly silent.

 

Snow laughs. “You know, I was so jealous of her.” 

 

“I know.”

 

“And you. And _Henry_.” Snow shakes her head. “Being the apple of your parents’ eye for your whole childhood kind of makes you bratty when that’s taken away.” She makes a face and keeps moving. They’re nearing the castle now, close enough to see people walking around it in the distance. “I wanted her to be mine. I never understood that she never wanted to belong to anyone.” 

 

“Yeah.” Emma hadn’t understood it, either, had thought of Regina’s repeated rejections of her offers to run away as cowardice or a hunger for power until she’d finally grasped the truth. Regina hadn’t wanted to be hers, either, or anyone’s but her own. And it still stings, especially when… “But Henry?” 

 

Snow’s face blossoms into a smile. “She loves him so much, Emma.” And it’s a relief and it’s another sharp pain to Emma, of Regina finding a love that’s _enough_ on the ashes of Emma’s love. Of Henry and Regina, forever entwined, and Emma standing on the outside.

 

“Good,” she says, and the part of her that doesn’t hurt means it. _Good_ that Henry has been surrounded by love. _Good_ that Regina has stopped trying to punish everyone. _Good_ that Regina had found someone worth fighting for.

 

And she thinks of herself, frozen in time with a hook and a sword over her head, utterly irrelevant to the lives of everyone she loves.

 

* * *

 

They’re nearly at the castle when the moon is dimmed above the castle and the air smells like dust and leather. Emma looks up and sees a swarm of lights- blue and green and yellow and red, flickering in and out- in the sky, casting no shadow and surging forward as though they have a victim in mind. “Zelena,” she growls, and sets off in a run, Snow stumbling after her. 

 

They’re fireflies, she can see now, a mass of them all diving downward with an angry clipping sound, too fast to be natural insects. And Regina emerges from the castle and stands tall in the garden, her hands glowing with fire as they come close enough that Emma can’t see Regina’s orange flame anymore.

 

She fires an arrow and it…dissolves, just like that, vanishes into the swarm and never falls free. “Hey! Hey!” she shouts, terror gripping her. “Over here!” She charges to the closest lamp and lights an arrowhead on fire, firing it again at the mass. This time it shifts and she sees burnt husks falling to the ground. 

 

She seizes the lamp and runs to Regina, directly into the whirling mass of fireflies. She can feel something being dripping onto her skin with every insect brushing against it, something that burns and has her sluggish with pain, but she heads forward anyway, watching for where she can find a faint glow of fire flickers at the center of the swarm.

 

Regina is there, eyes flashing when she sees Emma, and she shakes her head and continues to throw flames at the fireflies closest to her. Emma thrusts her lamp out, clearing the area as well as she can, and she can see pink spots like teardrops everywhere the fireflies attack her.

 

She’s afraid to open her mouth and let the fireflies in so she doesn’t talk to Regina, just twists so she’s at her back and fighting the rear swarm. Regina is straight-backed and breathing hard through her nose and Emma’s lamp is flickering, the fireflies cutting off the air it needs to remain burning, and she slumps back against Regina, wondering if they can run away from this. 

 

And then, very suddenly, the fireflies spread out and fly away. Regina sags against her and Emma drops to her knees, panting. “What the _hell_?” 

 

“I don’t think…I don’t know.” Regina kneels down beside her, magic flickering over the irritated skin on Emma's face. Her fingers trail across Emma’s eyes and down her cheekbones, tracing healing energy along Emma’s neck and chin and down to her tunic. “You’re all red,” she murmurs.

 

“So are you,” Emma whispers back, shivering under Regina’s touch. Regina’s skin is angry and irritated, beginning to swell in places it shouldn’t, and Emma doesn’t have any magic to help her. “You should…” She puts a hand against Regina’s cheek and they stare at each other for a moment, the tense distance gone for the moment and replaced with this new awkwardness. 

 

She almost says something else, doesn’t push Regina aside and nearly speaks, but then there’s a crack of energy behind them and they spring apart, standing up again and whirling around just as Snow finally reaches the castle. 

 

“We’ve just received word,” the Blue Fairy announces from where she's appeared, a group of brightly lit fairies trailing behind her. They look like fireflies, too, and Emma’s face settles into a scowl. “We’re here to help you fight the witch.” 

 

Her eyes flicker to Emma for a moment and Emma thinks she must have imagined the disappointment in them- or perhaps not; after all, they’d never gotten along- and then they move to Regina and become unreadable.

 

* * *

 

One of the fairies is dressed in green and rushes over to Regina as soon as they’re back in the castle, Regina seated in the war room after healing all of Emma’s and her own burns. Emma perches in the seat beside her, protective around Blue even when she’s still resenting Regina. “Regina!” the green fairy says. She’s in human form now, her hand on Regina’s and Regina smiling at her in a way that isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she is around Snow and Emma. “I’m so sorry about Henry.” 

 

“Thank you, Tink,” Regina says, and Emma darts a glance her way and sees that her smile has vanished. 

 

Tink frowns at Emma for a moment. “I don’t know you.”

 

“Tink, don’t–“ Regina begins, but Emma says, “I was here. I’m Emma.” 

 

“ _Emma_.” Tink’s eyes brighten and her head swivels back to Regina, quick as a flash. “Your Emma?” 

 

“Not her anything,” Emma mumbles, and she’s grateful when Snow comes in and she can ignore both of the other women. Tink is whispering into Regina’s ear and Regina is looking more progressively frustrated with each hushed exchange, and she responds low and sharply until Tink finally stands up and storms off to the back of the room.

 

Blue hasn’t taken human form, instead hovering so they all have to raise their chins to acknowledge her- which Emma’s pretty sure is intentional. “So this witch is…” 

 

“From Oz. The Wicked Witch of the West,” Snow offers. “And apparently Regina’s sister.” 

 

“Another of Cora’s.” Blue sniffs. “And what did you do to her?” Her eyes are on Regina now, who’s gritting her teeth and wrapping her fingers around the edge of the table. 

 

“I did nothing,” she says, but she’s avoiding their eyes. _You lied. You ruined my life and left me to suffer_ , Zelena had said, and Regina hadn’t contested that. “I haven’t seen her since I was ten.” 

 

“And what happened to her then? Was Cora teaching her magic?” Blue presses. “Had she been killing? Any association with the Dark One? What happened to her?” 

 

Regina’s face takes on a mulish expression and Emma knows that Blue won’t get anything else from her. “Regina doesn’t know anything about her,” she says, keeping her eyes on Blue and sensing Regina’s startled glance on her. “She didn’t even know she was her sister until we went to take down the barrier.” 

 

“And we’re supposed to trust you?” Blue flutters around her and Emma’s fists clench. Snow puts a hand on Emma’s arm. “You’ve proven less reliable than even the Mills women.” 

 

Emma’s had enough. “I don’t give a damn what you think,” she says, and stands and stalks out of the room. Just like old times with the Blue Fairy.

 

* * *

 

She’s sitting by Regina's tree, biting into an apple with savage frustration, when she hears a voice call out in the dark, “I don’t think you helped my case very much.” 

 

“Not everything is about you, Regina.” The apple tastes sour and she tosses it to the ground. It rolls a few feet before it comes to a halt under Regina’s shoe. “Blue and I don’t get along.” 

 

“I can see that.” Regina’s face is neutral and Emma doesn’t know what to do with her hands. 

 

She plucks another apple and finds her knife, peeling it in a long strip. “I spent months listening to her buzzing in my ear, demanding that I put Henry in that wardrobe. She wasn’t happy with me when I refused.” 

 

“Until you couldn’t anymore,” Regina murmurs, and she doesn’t look guilty as much as sad.

 

Emma shifts, annoyed and uncertain at that response. “I wouldn’t sacrifice Henry for the greater good. The greater good is a crock of shit.”

 

Regina lets out a startled laugh and Emma feels her own lips beginning to creep upward. She bites them to keep them in place. “Emma,” she says, shaking her head. Just _Emma_. Then, “I am inclined to agree.” 

 

“Yeah? What about that noble sacrifice everyone can’t shut up about?” She finishes slicing the peel off in one piece and tosses the apple to Regina. Regina bites into it. “How does that work with the whole _fuck the greater good_ business?” 

 

“Henry falls into the 'greater good’ camp. I don’t think he’d be very happy with me sacrificing everyone else for the two of us.” Regina moves and the first apple rolls back to Emma.

 

“Henry and Snow.” Emma kicks it. “You made them this way, didn’t you?” 

 

“I had nothing to do with parenting Snow,” Regina says haughtily. “If anything, she did this to Henry. She was his teacher when he first found out about the curse.” 

 

Emma has a sudden, horrifying mental image of Snow seated in a classroom, teaching the students bird calls instead of numbers and reading. It’s even harder not to laugh now. “What a nightmare.” 

 

“Indeed.” Regina is pursing her lips like she’s trying not to grin, and she lifts up the apple Emma had dropped and waves her hand over it. The dirt vanishes and she hands it off, sparkling clean, to Emma. “Do you remember when I told you about a friend I’d had in childhood?” 

 

“Vaguely.” She thinks it hadn’t been far from here, the two- no, _three_ \- of them curled up together on the grass. Henry had been just learning how to move and Regina had been blowing colored puffs of magic for him to catch with chubby little fingers. Emma had loved them both more than anyone in the universe, had been so happy that it had overwhelmed the dread for a little while.

 

She wants to shrink into the ground now and forget everything that had come after that. Instead, she says, “So that was Zelena?” 

 

“I never knew she was my sister. Now it makes sense. Mother would have kept her close, with that kind of power.” Regina closes her eyes. “I think she was meant to be my maid, but instead she was…a friend. The only one I’d had until I met you, I suppose.”

 

“What happened?” 

 

Regina is gazing into the dark now, and Emma thinks she’d been forgotten until she feels Regina’s hand against the tree’s wall, fingers just against hers but not quite touching. “We stole my mother’s ruby slippers. It had been her idea. I didn’t cross Mother when it wasn’t necessary. I guess she was too far gone to care.”

 

She leans back to stare up at the moon. “And the slippers took us to Oz. I wore them, held onto Zelena, and I clicked them three times and we were there, in a strange realm, all alone. I’d been terrified. I had never meant to use magic. Zelena was ecstatic.” She shakes her head. “It was nothing like the movie.” 

 

“What’s a movie?” 

 

Regina laughs again, surprised. “You don’t know about movies.” She launches into a description of plays on a screen and something called _television_  that sounds like it’s the same thing, and Emma’s kind of confused about why you’d shrink people just to perform in someone’s home? Are they only for royalty? But Regina’s warm and enthusiastic when she talks about it, the morose memories of Zelena on hold for a moment, and Emma doesn’t say anything. 

 

“...And there are movies about old legends of that world,” Regina adds. “Snow and I have a story. Mulan, too. Lancelot is part of an older one. There are hundreds of legends about you.” 

 

“Really? Do I charm the dresses off all the ladies?”

 

“Oh, you do.” Regina quirks an eyebrow. “Though in most of them, you’re a man.” 

 

Emma rolls her eyes heavenward. “Of course I am.” 

 

“Better a man than a terrible shrew,” Regina says, sighing. “I’ve tried to kill poor Snow White hundreds of times throughout history because she was prettier than me.” 

 

“Well, that’s just unrealistic.” She flushes and looks away when Regina’s eyes land back on her. “Uh…so. Zelena.” 

 

“Oz didn’t take well to either of us. We were declared enemies of the realm by their leader at the time, a witch called Glinda.” Regina’s voice shakes. “I’d hated magic and never used it, and I was helpless against the creatures she sent against us. Magical doves, white foxes, hummingbirds. Animals that were never meant to hurt.” 

 

Emma says, “Fireflies?” 

 

“Fireflies.” Regina touches a faint pink mark still visible on Emma’s arm. 

 

“Then she–“ 

 

“I don’t know. Zelena may have them under her control now. As far as I know, Glinda is still in Oz.” 

 

She polishes the apple with her thumb, her eyes dim with old memories. “We fled but the citizens of the realm were only too happy to turn us in. Glinda sent them for both of us and Zelena tried to protect me, to hand over the slippers and fight back against the animals that attacked us. Finally, she went with Glinda in exchange for my safety. I swore I’d come back for her.” 

 

“Liar,” Emma echoes the word Zelena had thrown at Regina, and Regina flinches. “That’s what she meant. You didn’t go back?” 

 

Regina shakes her head. “My mother came to get me. She took me from Glinda and told me she’d go back and retrieve Zelena. She lied,” Regina says simply. “I don’t know why. Maybe she’d decided to punish her for taking the slippers. Maybe Zelena had just become a liability, and Mother hated liabilities.” 

 

“Maybe she was just trying to torment both of you some more,” Emma offers uncharitably.

 

Regina snorts and doesn’t comment on that. “She left and returned and said that Zelena was dead and I believed her. I swore to never touch magic again and I blamed myself enough that I made a habit of being brave, of putting myself second and saving others first. Very much the opposite of what Mother wanted me to be,” she admits, and Emma yearns for the girl she’d been and doesn’t know the woman she is now. “And years after Zelena languished in one prison, I wound up in another for that vow.”

 

She turns to Emma. “And then you did for seven years because of me.” Her eyes are dark and not quite as rich with self-pity as they’d been on that first night in the castle. Emma could lose herself in them in an instant. “Little girls hurting little girls with Mother’s help,” she murmurs. “When does it stop?” 

 

Emma wants to say something poisonous in return, wants to get her chance to fight back as Zelena has. But the words die on her tongue and instead she murmurs, “That’s up to you.” 

 

“Not anymore.” They’re united on one side now, all of them against a vengeful witch lashing out at a woman who’d wronged her as a child, and the irony of _that_  doesn’t escape Emma. But Regina is no Snow, who’s only now beginning to understand what had been inflicted. Regina had looked at Zelena as though she’d loved her and Zelena had put on a mask in response. 

 

“Maybe still,” Emma says, and their hands remain just barely touching and Emma doesn’t know how to explain it, how she should hate her- she does hate her- but she’s still sitting with her in the dark garden, longing quietly for a moment a decade before, when it had been Regina and Emma and Henry and no more hurt between them.


	3. Chapter 3

Regina rides ahead of them, head high and posture impeccable as though she’s their leader and not the odd man out. Emma straightens a little on Beetle from where she’s riding beside Mulan and Lancelot, her eyes flying back to Regina again and again. 

 

“You’re going to bore a hole straight through her,” Mulan murmurs, and Emma flushes and turns back to the road. 

 

Blue had fluttered into the council room yesterday morning with cloying tones and the promise of a potion meant to stop Zelena. _They say it can purify even the darkest soul_ , she’d said, and Regina had snorted loudly. Snow, looking rather peaky beside her, had put a hand on Regina’s arm and they’d made plans.

 

A drop of Zelena’s blood, then a month to mix it. That’s all that Blue needs that they don’t have on store. So they’re riding out to the Dark Castle to find her and bring back her blood, to have a weapon against her they might need to use someday.

 

Snow hadn’t been able to go. She’d wanted to, had insisted that she could handle the ride, but she’d been pale and shivering and Emma had summoned a doctor instead. Regina had volunteered, looking proud and strong and unyielding, and no one had doubted her except Emma herself. 

 

“I don’t know how effective she’ll be against Zelena,” she mutters to Mulan. “If she’s her sister–“ The rest of the story isn’t hers to tell, and only Snow and Red are in the know now. “It might be up to us.” 

 

Mulan pats the sword she has that’s been built specifically to counter magic. “We’ll do fine. I’ve faced worse.” 

 

They stop for the night when it gets too dark to see. There’s a new moon tonight and they’re riding up the mountain now toward the castle, no towns lit up or comforting light from fellow travelers. Lancelot sets up a fire and Regina lights it with a lazy twitch of her hand just as Mulan and Emma return with a few stray rabbits.

 

“Is this the part where we all gather around the campfire and sing?” Regina asks dryly. They blink at her. “Snow thought it would be ‘good for morale’ in Neverland. As though the Dark One and Captain Hook wanted to bellow songs of brotherhood together.” She shudders and Mulan grins.

 

And it strikes Emma again, this uncertainty and anger that she can’t name. This _unfairness_ that wells up in her bones, has her craving a fight she won’t be given, the fight she can’t have anymore. “That’s three out of five people who’ve tried to kill me,” she says pleasantly, the edge to her voice as sharp as a knife. “Nice crowd.”

 

“We did what we had to for our family,” Regina responds evenly. “Milah had her–“

 

Emma’s eyes narrow, picking out the guilt in Regina’s expression with all the skill of an ex-lover. “Did you _sleep with her_?”

 

The guilt is replaced with defensiveness and a hint of stubbornness. “And what if I did?” 

 

“Emma–“ Mulan says, but Emma ignores her, eyes hard and _this_ , this she can be angry and irrational about. 

 

“She tried to kill me! She and _your mother_ were the only reasons I wasn’t with Hen- with…” She falters and Regina gentles in an instant, shifting forward.

 

“Emma,” she says, folding beneath her gaze, and Emma is even angrier then, dissatisfied as the fight seeps out of the atmosphere. 

 

A strong arm is wrapped around her before she can start in on Regina again, and she glares up at Lancelot. He shakes his head. “Not now, Emma.” 

 

“What, because she’s some kind of fucking hero now?” she demands, betrayed. Lancelot had _been there_ , had woken up with her and found Henry gone. Lancelot knows what she’s gone through, and now he defends the Evil Queen against her. (Lancelot had once stood guard over her and seen a young queen come to rescue her from George’s clutches, she reminds herself, and is frustrated again.)

 

“Because we’re a team,” Lancelot corrects her, and she’s ashamed. Regina is staring into the fire silently and says nothing. “We need to work together now. Save  your quarrels for home.” He holds her lightly and she finishes cooking a rabbit in silence before she pulls away from him to curl up in a blanket beside Mulan.

 

Mulan pats her arm. Emma grumbles something indistinct and gets a soft, “I know it’s not easy,” from her. Regina continues to stare into the fire.

 

Lancelot says, “Well, did you?” and they all blink up at him. He’s roasting a rabbit in the fire and his eyes are fixed on Regina, shrewd but not unfriendly. “Sing with Snow around the campfire?” Regina gives him a dark look. He grins, undisturbed. “Come on, give us a song.” 

 

“I could tear your tongue out and make you swallow it instead,” Regina hisses, and Emma bites down on her lips to force the smile away. That is _not_ endearing. Regina is…impossible to love, impossible to hate, and Emma doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react to her anymore. 

 

But a low hum begins from Lancelot’s throat, melodic and soothing, and he cocks an eyebrow at Regina. She glares into the flames. He keeps going, his eyes caught on Regina’s. Mulan is watching him, Emma watching Regina, and then… 

 

The reluctant strains of melody waft over from the other side of the fire. Regina’s eyes are defiant and vulnerable at once but her voice rises and falls with Lancelot’s, and Mulan harmonizes with Lancelot’s hum as Regina sings over them.

 

Night finally falls. Emma watches all three of them, Lancelot and Mulan both captivated by Regina and Regina drawn in by Lancelot. She can’t see Regina well on the other side of the flames. Her face is devoid of color in the orange light, her eyes grim and pensive on the fire; but on and on she sings, peaceful and soft like Henry’s lullabies, and Emma whispers voiceless words along with her, eyes drifting closed in the dark.

 

* * *

 

They reach the castle in the early morning, less than an hour after sunset, and Zelena is nowhere to be found. “She’s here,” Regina says with certainty. “I can feel her somewhere nearby.” 

 

“Feel her,” Lancelot repeats.

 

“Magic knows magic. She’ll know we’re here now.” Regina sounds cranky, and Emma says swiftly, “There’s a room below the castle where she hides out. It’s a tight fit. I don’t know if Lancelot can get down there with those shoulders–“ 

 

“Wait.” Regina is suddenly standing very close, her hands on Emma’s shoulders. Emma shudders and Regina murmurs into her ear, “Visualize that room. I can’t take us somewhere I’ve never been, not without your help. Where is it? How does it look?” 

 

Emma can feel the stirrings of magic within her, tugging and twisting through her mind, and she shudders again. Regina hasn’t used magic like this on her since they’d been together, since it had left Emma twitching helplessly on a bed while Regina had swooped down to kiss her, moving her fingers like a puppet master with the strings within Emma.

 

She’s alarmed to discover that the same sensations are still coming now, the urge to squirm in place under Regina’s hands overwhelming. She fights it, but Mulan and Lancelot are both watching her curiously, and she mutters, “Regina, _do it_.” 

 

She hears the slightest low chuckle behind her and then they’re all vanishing and reappearing in–

 

–What Zelena has redone into some kind of home, a bed in one corner and dozens of books and magical materials lined across the back tables. And there are a half dozen flying monkeys chittering at the other end of the room.

 

Zelena blinks at them from the bed. “Well, this is very forward, Regina,” she says, and hurls a flash of green energy at them.

 

Regina catches it and tosses it aside. “Thought I’d come for a visit, bring a housewarming gift.” She holds out her hand and a fireball springs into it.

 

“Simply lovely,” Zelena drawls. “I have a vase that would go beautifully with it.” She hurls another blast in Lancelot’s direction, careless and swift. Mulan swings her sword to deflect it and the energy hits a short cabinet to their left, dissolving it like acid. Zelena’s eyebrows lift higher.

 

They split up into their previously agreed upon teams, Lancelot and Mulan pressing forward while Regina and Emma keep up the long-range assault. Zelena says, “What is this, Regina?” 

 

She only talks to Regina, doesn’t seem to notice anyone else in the room but to toss stray flames at them, and Emma is too busy firing arrows at her to notice when the monkeys come flapping forward, twisting around them until Emma can’t see and hears only angry chittering in her ears. “Alan, if that’s you…” she threatens at one as it drags clawed hands across her head. She can feel it pounding now, blood cool as it matts her hair, and Regina lets out a low curse and sends a stream of fire at her sister.

 

Zelena dodges it easily and Mulan twists around in every direction, protecting Lancelot as he charges at her, and Regina sends another careful flame that Zelena can avoid. And another. And another. 

 

Regina’s _playing it safe_ , Emma realizes, avoiding hitting Zelena where it hurts. Regina’s eyes are flickering from Emma to Zelena with the same understated affection, the same fierceness, and she hurls fire at monkeys and softens against Zelena. Regina is the liability that Emma had suspected she might be. 

 

“You’re holding back!” she accuses, ducking a monkey and trying to send an arrow Zelena’s way. It impales a monkey that flings itself in her way instead, and the monkey vanishes in a puff of green energy. “Regina, we need her blood!” 

 

“I’m _trying_.” 

 

“No, you aren’t!” Emma shoves a monkey away and dodges one of Zelena’s blows, her green flames hitting Regina’s defensive ones and imploding in the center of the room. Mulan beats at the fire and Lancelot swings his sword at Zelena and hits a smoky green shield instead. “Is this what you’re like now?” 

 

“Like?” Regina echoes, eyes narrowing. 

 

“ _Weak_ ,” Emma snaps, mind working furiously. Zelena is waving her hand at Lancelot, sending him flying backward when Mulan can’t move fast enough, and Mulan is getting tangled in a trio of flying monkeys. The last two hover above her and Regina, wary of Regina’s inferno. They’re stuck without Regina. 

 

“People keep claiming that you’re different now, but in the end, you’re just…you just roll over and let whoever wronged you rule you.” She chooses her words carefully until she isn’t anymore, until she’s angry at a fight that she isn’t allowed to have and the words come out anyway. “You aren’t a hero. You’ve just stopped fighting.”

 

Regina bends instead of fighting back, soft and never brittle to shatter, and Emma wants to shatter her. Wants to lash out and _attack_ her, except now she’s _different_ and _reformed_ and Emma can’t fight with someone who won’t fight back. “You’re pathetic,” she finishes off, harsh and sharp. “Zelena will kill you in an instant and you’d rather hold back because you played together when you were kids? Come on, Regina, I know you better than that.” 

 

“Fine,” Regina grits out, shoving new flames between Zelena and Lancelot. “You’re right. I don’t particularly _want_ to hurt my sister. Is that so wrong?” 

 

Zelena is laughing shrilly now, a monkey dangling Mulan from its grasp, and Mulan kicks off from its stomach and slices a gash against its neck. Emma says desperately, all the resentment bottled up inside her leaking out, “Was it wrong when you tried to kill my brother?” She breathes in, fires an arrow, has it deflected. 

 

Regina looks at her askance. Emma ignores her. “What do you want from me, Emma?”

 

“I want you to get Zelena’s blood,” Emma growls, and charges forward, dropping their formation. Regina calls her name in a frustrated shout and Emma yanks out a knife in response, eyes fixed on Zelena. Zelena turns, eyes narrowed, and pulls her attention away from Mulan and Lancelot at last. Her gaze flickers to Regina, a new concern growing at whatever she must see on her face, and then she hardens as well, hurling green flames at Emma.

 

A wave of energy passes through Emma, deflecting the magic, and Regina appears with a puff in front of Zelena, close enough to seize her arm and smirk up at her. “Don’t tell me you need a team of trained animals to stop me.”

 

Zelena waves lazily at Emma. “Well, fair’s fair.” But her eyes are dilated and smile wide and hungry, like she’s been waiting for this for too long, and Emma bristles but doesn’t dare move closer. Mulan swings her sword at Zelena. A monkey claws toward her face, and she loses her focus to fight him off.

 

Regina’s jaw works under her skin for a moment, still smiling with her mouth open and her eyes dangerous. “Zelena," she begins, and Emma's surprised to hear the note of gentleness in her tone. "I know you aren't the first person out there to hold a grudge against a...a child...but this doesn't have to go this way. You don't have to...." Her voice trails off and she lays a tentative hand on Zelena's arm, the invitation clear as day. 

 

Zelena looks down at Regina's hand with such unbridled longing that Emma thinks, maybe, this can still end well. But a shiver passes through her body and she jerks away a moment later, her eyes wild and more than a little afraid. “I…” Her face smoothes, the sneer returned. “You think this started when you were ten? I’ve loathed you since you were _born_.” 

 

A flicker of heartbreak and then Regina lashes out in a quick swipe, rakes nails across Zelena’s face and leaves her blood on her fingers. Zelena is startled and gleeful at once, and Regina's eyes are narrowed as she procures a vial and slips a drop of blood inside. “Well. Sweet little Regina finally learned how to hit back.”

 

“Had to.” Regina looks breathless, uncertain, raring for another fight. “I was all on my own too, remember?” 

 

“You were a _queen_. Mother’s prized pet, all set to live the life Mother had felt was owed to her.” Zelena stalks forward again, hand outstretched, and she lifts her hand so Regina’s suspended just above the ground, chin up and quiet misery on her face. “Was it worth it, Regina?” 

 

Emma charges at her and a monkey swoops down to kick her. She finds her knife and slashes at its belly, wrestles with it until it’s gone, and when she looks up again, Regina’s back on the ground. Zelena is staring at the floor and Regina’s staring at Zelena and they both have their arms wrapped around themselves. 

 

It’s Lancelot who steps forward when Zelena doesn’t stop them, the monkeys all gone, and he lays a hand on Regina’s back. She doesn’t move away from him, and when he says gently, “Our task here is complete,” Regina nods shakily and they vanish from Zelena’s hideout into smoke.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma says finally when they’re setting up camp that night. Mulan is out hunting and Lancelot is crouched in front of the fire, Regina standing just behind him. She’s barely glanced at Emma all day, and now when Emma speaks, she shifts away from Lancelot to the other side of the fire. Emma follows. “I shouldn’t have said all that stuff earlier. I don’t think you’re…you’re weak.” 

 

She’s apologizing for something more than her words, for manipulating Regina so unashamedly in the first place, and Regina still doesn’t look at her as she responds. “You did what had to be done.” She stares blankly into the flames. “And you do have a point. I’ve found that in the Charmings’ company, it’s never been all that productive to do more than insult them and then roll with the punches.” There’s a flicker of humor on her face and Emma bites back what she wants to say. “It’s served me well in the past years.” 

 

“It sounds kind of sad,” Emma counters. “Like you aren’t all you are anymore.” Regina is changed now, more peaceful even when she’s impatient with them. She can’t imagine it, Regina tamed, Regina who wilts and never stands straight.

 

“Bends and never breaks,” Regina murmurs when Emma says so. “I know it isn’t what you want.” 

 

Emma shrugs moodily. “You’re different now. I miss fighting with you.” Which is more honesty than she can really afford, even if Regina lets out a little puff of laughter at it. “What?” 

 

“Aww,” Regina manages, and she finally turns to Emma with her eyes bright. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone's said to me in a decade.” 

 

Emma flushes and rolls her eyes in one movement, scowling at her. “You have a lot of people saying romantic things to you?” She remembers herself. “Not that I _care_.” 

 

“Only you,” Regina assures her, and she puts her hand on Emma’s as Emma bites her lip furiously. “There’s _I hate you_ and _evil witch_ , my two favorites until now.” 

 

“Oh yeah, and when you told me I stunk of the woods–“ 

 

“Oh no, I was very serious about that.” Regina wrinkles her nose and Emma studies her with narrowed eyes, unsure if she’s joking or not. Regina smiles obliquely.

 

They sit by the fire together, Regina’s hand still on Emma’s and Emma incapable of pulling away, and Regina says finally, “About Zelena.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“There are…many, many stories about the Wicked Witch of the West. Lives in Oz, owns a pack of flying monkeys, an inclination toward greenness. And in almost all of them, she can be defeated by water.” 

 

“This potion.” 

 

“It melts her in most of them.” Regina turns back to her, a thumb stroking Emma’s palm. “The Blue Fairy talked about it _purifying_ her, but that’s how the stories always go. The witch is melted, gone forever, dead. And I don’t know how different it is in our world but I’m disinclined to trust Blue.” 

 

“You think we’re putting this together to kill her,” Emma understands. “That’s why you hesitated.” 

 

“If it came down to everyone else or Zelena, I’d choose you.” Regina’s eyes are fixed on Emma and Emma doesn’t know what she means by _you_ here. “But to pass that kind of power into Blue’s hands? I admit I balked.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma says again, her heart thumping in renewed dread. “If I’d known…” 

 

She’s saved from responding by a snowy owl that hoots above them, one long cry, and a scroll is dropped from the skies onto their joined hands. Regina snatches it before it rolls into the fire, opening it swiftly.

 

Emma leans over to see it, her head brushing against Regina’s shoulder. There are only three words written across it, large and shaky but unmistakably Snow’s handwriting. _I NEED YOU_. 

 

Regina stands, her fist clenched around the note, and Lancelot says, “What is it?” 

 

“We’ll meet you and Mulan back at the castle,” she says, and seizes Emma’s hand as purple smoke swirls around them. Emma holds on tight, even when the smoke clears and they’re back in their chambers, standing in the center of the dining hall where Snow is seated at the table.

 

She’s trembling and pale, looks even more wan than she had when she’d left, and Emma’s heart skips a beat. Something is wrong with her, worse than they’d imagined, and she’s going to–

 

“I’m pregnant,” Snow says, and bursts into tears.

 

* * *

 

Regina takes the lead. Somehow, she’s guiding Snow into her bed without fussing, gentle but authoritative as Snow shivers under her arms. “Emma, wet cloth,” she orders, and Emma follows her instructions in silence. “Snow, where’s your doctor?” 

 

“I sent her away.” She shivers. “I told her I was…I was fine. Wanted you two.” 

 

“Well, as long as she hasn’t reverted to the old ways to keep you healthy, you’re better off with her,” Regina says, businesslike. Emma has been shaking since Snow’s admission and she barely manages to dart a glance in Regina’s direction. Regina stands comfortingly beside Snow, an anchor in a room that’s beginning to spin a little. “She hasn’t, has she? Any pig spleen down your back? Did she prescribe a diet of beetles?” 

 

Snow laughs, wet and gasping until she’s crying again. “I can’t do this alone, Regina. I can’t…I need him.” 

 

“We’re here,” Emma whispers, pressing the cloth to her forehead. She offers Snow a cup of water and Snow chokes it down. She doesn’t think Snow hears. She isn’t sure the words had ever made it out of her mouth, or if they'd stuck there and never emerged.

 

“David is the father, I hope. Unless you and Whale had another torrid affair before Pan killed him.” Regina’s smile is a little tighter at that but Snow still reaches for her, pulls her to her and then goes for Emma and they both make it onto the bed, arms resting over Snow as she sobs.

 

“We thought…after Cora. We thought maybe we could rebuild. We talked about coming back here, raising little princes and princesses and now…” She gulps back more tears and wilts, pressing her head to Emma’s shoulder. “He’s _gone_.” 

 

“He’s taking care of our child,” Regina murmurs. “And I swear, Snow, we’re going to take care of yours. You’re not alone. You’re not...” The supportive mask slips for a moment, and Emma sees the grief breaking new lines across Regina’s naked face, the way she crumples for a moment before she straightens and strokes Snow’s arm with nothing but reassurance. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

 

Emma wraps her arms around Snow and Regina keeps her own arm draped over her and they both tremble and try their best not to. Snow doesn’t notice any of it, buried in Emma’s arms, and when she finally drifts off, Emma disentangles herself from the embrace and hurries out of the room.

 

She sinks to the floor in the hallway and sobs silently, legs stretched out in front of her and head tilted up at grey ceilings and she cries for what she’s lost, for the child long gone, just as Snow had wept for the one she’s gained. It’s so fucking _unfair_  that they’re all mixed up, lovers and children and all of them missing pieces of themselves, and Emma knows that Snow’s child has nothing to do with her- _an aunt, she’s going to be an aunt_ , and she sobs harder- and yet it burns anyway in that tiny part of her that never can separate her needs from her emotions. 

 

A new child will be born in these chambers. A new baby will take the clothes that had been for Henry, the spaces where he’d crawled and the toys that he’d chewed on. A new baby will live in this new home and never be hidden away as Henry had been, and Henry is in a new world, gone from her forever. 

 

Regina emerges from Snow’s room after a minute and she slides to the floor too, presses her knees to her front and wraps her arms around her legs. She’s crying too, equally as silent, both of them vulnerable in ways that no one else will understand. 

 

They don’t speak for a long moment and then, softly, “What can I do?” 

 

And she remembers that this is all Regina’s doing, that Regina had stolen away her son and Regina is _despicable_ , is mourning a child she should never have had alone in the first place. And it matters so little when Regina understands. “Take me somewhere safe,” she whispers, and doesn’t know what she means.

 

Regina does, though.

 

They vanish and reappear in the woods, somewhere near her old camp, and Emma’s caught between comfort and despair as she recognizes the woods around her. She turns very slowly, catches Regina’s downturned gaze in the process, and her mouth falls open in disbelief as she sees Jasmine’s cabin in front of her. “Here?” she says. “Safe?” she says.

 

Her voice is rising and Regina has the audacity to look confused about it. “This is where you and Henry–“ 

 

Emma cuts her off. There’s a bubble of fury that floats within her when she’s around Regina now, a constant _awareness_ that she never allows herself to touch but sees regardless. And it’s finally burst, open and unleashed at the sight of Regina in front of the cabin and this new baby. “You know,” she begins, voice like acid. “When I had to keep Henry from you- when you were _out of control_ and willing to die rather than be a mother- you know how I felt about it?” 

 

Regina’s eyes are dark and uncertain. “Emma…” 

 

“Angry at you, yeah. But mostly miserable. Guilty. I _hated_ myself for having to take him from you.” She laughs, bitter and near hysterics. “And I thought you were…you’d be the same, for some reason. I thought you were horrible but at least you _knew_ it. And yet here you are, taking me to your great moment of conquest to…what, spite me? Are you trying to torture me? Haven’t I paid enough for making the right decision that day?” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There’s a deep-set frown on Regina’s face, desperation mingled with building frustration in her gaze. 

 

Emma laughs and laughs and laughs and chokes on the vile taste of it. “You don’t know? _You don’t know?_ Tell me, what was it like that night when you came in here and stole Henry away. Did you even hesitate?” she demands. “Did you look down at me when you snatched him out from under my arms and even _think_ of what was going to happen to me? Or did you take him and run because that’s all I deserved. Because I had to be _punished_ for taking him away from you.” 

 

She rounds on Regina, steps forward and shoves her until she’s up against the wall of the cabin. “And you know, people keep saying you’ve changed. You’re reformed. Like that means I’m supposed to forgive you for that!” She’s furious, blind with rage, and all she can think of is wrapping her hands against Regina’s neck and squeezing. It’s too much pent up, too much that a dozen quiet moments can’t heal or undo. _No_. Regina has taken too much from her and still walks free. Regina had cheated her out of her son’s childhood and she’s done playing nice, when she’d so easily play with her like this.

 

Regina leans back, breathing hard. “What are–“ 

 

“I don’t,” she hisses, her breath mingling with Regina’s, too close. Too angry. Her hands are balled up into fists so she won’t strike out again. “I don’t forgive you for what you’ve taken from me. I’ll never forgive you for that, and I don’t give a damn what Snow and the others–“

 

She’s thrown backwards by a blow strong enough to pin her against a tree, Regina impatient and angry as she strides forward. Emma struggles against her hold, squirms to break free and fishes for her knife, but Regina holds her with a furious grip until she’s suffocating and she thinks that she’s going to die here, in front of the coffin where her life with Henry lies dormant. She’d finally brought Regina forth to fight and she’s going to be killed for her recklessness.

 

But instead, Regina demands, “What the _hell_ are you talking about?” 

 

Emma’s teeth grind together. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny it _now._ You’ve admitted it dozens of times before. You _ruined my life_!” 

 

“Yes! Yes, I did,” Regina says desperately. “Because I cast a curse and you were gone, because seven years passed without you there with us.” Regina’s arm flexes almost unconsciously and Emma drops to the ground, lands in a heap and stares up at her. “You were missing, Emma. I woke up the first day in Storybrooke and went hunting for you and Henry and you weren’t there. No one had ever even heard of you.” 

 

Emma glares up at her, disbelieving, and Regina glares back just as hard. “I was terrified. I thought you’d been killed before the curse. I thought…I went to make sure you were both safe just days before. I didn’t know what any of it meant. So I started looking outside the town, just in case.”

 

She paces in circles and Emma still can’t move to attack her again. “I left town. I went to the closest police station and told them I was looking for a woman and a three-year-old boy and…and there he was. Henry was there with another boy who was terrified of me. And you were nowhere.” She swallows. “I searched and searched and searched for you while Gold took care of the official adoption and I told them you were my missing wife and you never, ever turned up. I thought you were dead until Neverland. I never knew you were here. I didn’t even know about the wardrobe until earlier this year.” 

 

“I don’t…” Emma’s voice is dry and she can feel tears threatening to erupt again. “You’re lying.” 

 

“I would never have taken Henry from you,” Regina says fiercely, stepping forward. “I never wanted you gone, no matter how much I hated you then. You and Henry were the only good part of me then. I tried to _kill_ you and I still sent the Huntsman to make sure you got home. I came to you to heal you before the curse so you wouldn’t spend seven years in pain. I never intended for you two to be separated. I would kill whoever did that to you.” 

 

Emma stares at her, feels the protests rising again and comes up blank. Slowly, unsteadily, she stands, a hand pressed to tree bark so she won’t fall. “How can I believe that?” 

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to prove anything to you,” Regina says helplessly. “And it doesn’t change the past. It doesn’t make what happened to you any less my fault. But I never stole Henry from you, not intentionally. I never…crept into your cabin in the dark of the night and kidnapped him, Emma, how could you think that I’d…” Her voice trails off and she hurries forward, catching Emma before she topples to the ground again. “Emma,” she murmurs, sliding her arms around her. “Oh, Emma.” 

 

She’s telling the truth, Emma knows. She knows when Regina’s lying to her, even if she’d never been good at parsing the actual lies. Regina is being completely honest about this, Regina hadn’t taken Henry, and nearly two years of anger are ebbing away in a rush, taking so much pain and fury out of her that she’s left unbalanced without it.

 

She does fall and Regina can’t hold her weight anymore, sinks to the ground with her and holds her tightly, Emma half-kneeling in the dirt and Regina’s arms around her bent figure and her head resting against Emma's back. Emma breathes in air that burns and a headache pounds at her skull and Regina’s hands clutch at her shoulder. She isn’t crying, her eyes are sightless, and she thinks that she has nothing wet inside of her to release, nothing but a drought that shrivels her up into nothingness.

 

She feels something empty within her, a pit that had been full for so long that she isn’t sure how to stand without it balancing her; but Regina shifts when she does and helps her up. And she’s lighter now, it’s easier to move, and she opens her mouth to speak. To say _something_ to Regina, to…not forgive, not yet, not when there’s so much more to work through. Not to apologize, either. She doesn’t know where they stand now.

 

She says, “Then who took Henry?” and they stare in silence at the cabin, at a mystery nine years old that remains unsolved.

 

“We’ll find out. If we never see him again, we’ll _know_ , at least,” Regina whispers, and only then does Emma see that Regina looks just as shaky on her feet as she does. Emma touches her waist tentatively, brushes her fingers along Regina’s back until she’s holding her in a loose embrace, and Regina leans her head against Emma’s side and cries silently for their son.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey!” Snow peers out the window over Regina’s shoulder. “Right there!”

 

“Hm?” Regina follows her gaze out of the carriage and Emma squints out from her seat across from them, eyeing the empty woods with curiosity.

 

“That’s where I tried to kill you.” Snow beams, looking very pleased with herself. “I had an arrow directly on you before David stopped me.” She deflates at the thought of him. She’s been cycling back and forth between enthusiasm and depression since her pregnancy had been discovered, and Emma reaches over to squeeze her knee. 

 

This trip is going to do them all good. Regina had been the one to suggest the summer palace’s underwater springs as a distraction from the day-to-day of guarding the palace against Zelena and ruling a much-depleted kingdom, and Aurora and a few of the others had named it a girls-only trip for them all. Snow had been startled at the suggestion. “Regina’s never gone there before,” she’d confided to Emma. “We’d made plans a few times when I was young but…well, you were the one who found us with the werewolves. Mishap after mishap. And there had been that time right before the sleeping curse.” 

 

“Right,” Emma had said, and wondered about Regina’s tentativeness when she’d made the suggestion. The summer palace had been a promise once, a gift that Regina had offered for her and Henry. And now- now that things have settled between them, not quite friendly but not nearly as angry- now she’s bringing it up again.

 

It isn’t about Emma. It’s about Snow and the hot springs and a girls’ week out for everyone cooped up in the castle. And yet…Emma can’t stop stealing glances at Regina and _wondering_.

 

Right now, she’s watching Regina’s wrist where Snow’s fingers are light on top of it and Regina is clearly doing her best not to pull away. Snow is talking about a potion and another story of David, David, always David– and Regina’s hand trembles and then stiffens and relaxes again. 

 

Emma looks up, catches Regina’s knowing gaze and flushes. They’re being cordial. They’re making lists and speaking to people who’d been near the cabin on the night of the curse and they’re trying to track down Milah. And Emma’s still angry but not about anything she can name, nothing as massive as Henry’s loss and nothing beyond self-involved foolishness, and there’s no point in bringing it up. So she doesn’t. 

 

Snow is beginning to nod off now and Regina wraps her in a blanket before she shifts closer to the window, still uncomfortable with Snow’s contact. Emma comments, “You’re so gentle with her. I never would have imagined…” 

 

“I treat her the way I’d like David to treat Henry,” Regina murmurs, avoiding her eyes. 

 

“That’s all it is?” She still doesn’t understand how Regina can be so _changed_ , can surrender so much of herself now around Snow when she’d cast Emma aside to hate Snow years before. She envies Snow and loathes her just a little for it, for being a piece of this Regina who’d never wanted to exist for Emma. 

 

Regina shrugs, the motion shifting her dress and drawing Emma’s eyes downward. “It is what it is.” She doesn’t clarify and Emma falls silent again, stymied. It isn’t her business what Regina has become. She has no hand in it.

 

Her only focus right now is Snow and finding out whoever had taken Henry from her.

 

* * *

 

The Summer Palace is surrounded on three sides by an enormous garden, beautiful and still lush even after years of abandonment. “My mother once told me that the fairies banished a treasonous gardener to forever work in these gardens,” Snow tells them, tucking a flower behind her ear as they walk up to the castle. “He died and remained a ghost, still tending to the gardens as an eternal punishment.”

 

Emma kicks Regina in the ankle before she can say anything in response. “I’m going to set up some wards around the palace,” Regina says instead. “We’ll have some warning if Zelena tries to strike now.” They’ve had a few minor attacks since their journey to the Dark Castle, flying monkeys and bees and crows but never Zelena herself. She must have her sights set on something within Regina’s castle, but they haven’t been able to figure out what.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Emma offers easily, and they exchange glances before they turn back to Snow. Snow is distracted already, spotting Red and Aurora and Mulan and a few royals Emma doesn’t know well as they emerge from the castle. “You go on inside.” 

 

Regina leads the way through the garden maze, murmuring spells and pausing and switching directions abruptly. Twice they’re separated when Emma’s looking at the greenery and misses Regina’s turn, and it seems only practical when Regina’s fingers tangle with Emma’s and grip them tight. “Stay with me,” she says, attempting to sound annoyed, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays other emotion.

 

“Okay,” Emma says dumbly, left without words with Regina’s fingers wrapped in hers so casually. They pause again for another ward and Emma picks flowers freely, finds some lavender the same shade of Regina’s magic and a little bloom of forget-me-nots the color of Henry’s eyes when he’d been a newborn. The bright red flower she finds next is an afterthought, but she gathers them together as the next spell is complete and when Regina frowns at them, she shrugs and holds them out. “Nice bouquet, right? Spruce up the rooms a little.” 

 

Regina’s eyes run over the flowers and she whispers, “Emma,” but takes them anyway. She seems transfixed by the bunch of them, eyes running from one to the other, and Emma says, “Do you know what that red one is?” 

 

“Pheasant’s eye,” Regina says. “Mother had me memorize the language of flowers as a child.” Emma looks at her, puzzled, and she smiles enigmatically. “This collection is quite the doozy. Suits you, though.” 

 

“What does it mean?” 

 

Regina ignores her. “We’re all warded up now. Come with me.” She waves the hand holding the flowers and takes Emma’s hand with the other and a little burst of gleaming purple leads them through the garden maze to a quiet pool to the right of the castle, a stone bench in front of it with a canopy shaped like two swans meeting. 

 

“Appropriate,” Emma notes, sitting down as the purple light still hovers around her. Regina nudges it away and it disappears with a shower of sparks. “So, we’re safe now?” 

 

“Neither one of them can eavesdrop on this conversation,” Regina confirms. She raises her voice as they sit. “Tinkerbell!” 

 

Now there’s a green light in front of them, growing brighter and brighter until it forms into the little green fairy staring down at them. “What’s going on?” She pauses. “Oh, hello, Emma.” Emma gets a special kind of beam and a significant glare at Regina, and Regina straightens and glares right back at Tink.

 

“We have some questions,” Emma says hastily. “About the Blue Fairy.” 

 

They’d been unable to bring them up at the castle, not with Blue breathing down everyone’s necks and still distrustful of Regina. Then again, Emma and Regina are equally distrustful, Blue topping both their lists for who’d taken Henry. She has the motive, the magical ability to put Emma and Lancelot to sleep (though the cabin had been warded against magic, Regina reminds her, and they’re both stumped about that), and she’d been the one to suggest the wardrobe in the first place. 

 

But Tink is shaking her head halfway through their questions. “It’s impossible.” She stares at them, brow furrowed. Regina’s knee bumps against Emma’s on the bench and Emma jerks away out of habit and wishes she hadn’t. The pheasant’s eye still grazes against the side of her arm and she shivers. 

 

“I know it sounds impossible,” she says gently. “But Blue was always set on putting Henry in that wardrobe. Don’t you think she might have–“ 

 

“No, you don’t understand. It’s actually impossible.” Tink pops out of sight and then returns, a full-sized fairy now. “Do you know anything about Blue’s origins?” 

 

“The depths of hell?” Emma suggests.

 

Tink grins for a moment before she catches herself. “Not exactly. How familiar are you with the legend of the Black Fairy?” 

 

“Very,” Regina says. They both blink at her. She says, “We both know the story. Emma, don’t you remember Quinn…” Her voice trails off and she winces as Emma feels her heart thud at the memory of the boy who’d been her brother long before David. “Quinn told us about her. She fell in love with a mortal and was killed by his dagger. He became the first Dark One.” 

 

“Did you know that she was pregnant?” Tink asks, and Emma _does_ remember, remembers Quinn and Regina arguing about whether or not dark hearts can love their children. Then, it had seemed a fruitless fight, Regina battling to understand her own mother. It takes on new significance when she thinks of the years that had followed. 

 

“The child was born?” Regina winds lavender stems between her fingers.

 

“That child was free of all darkness, all corruption and anything but goodness. The Blue Fairy.” Emma snickers and Tink looks affronted. “She was buried with her mother’s wand, you know. Most of us descend from older generations of fairies or are changed humans and we still lack that perfection. But Blue could never be capable of such a dark act.”

 

The idea of it is laughable. _Blue_ as some bastion of goodness… “Didn’t she banish you or something?” 

 

Tink lifts her chin. “I lied and stole and she stopped believing in me. That has nothing to do with her.” 

 

“She did orchestrate Snow’s assassination attempt on me,” Regina puts in, her eyes narrowed. “How is that–” 

 

“Sorry, Regina, but you were kind of…evil,” Tink offers. “Good will always advise the vanquishment of evil. But kidnapping a child…that’s cruelty to an innocent. Blue couldn’t do it even if she’d been able to want to.” She pats Regina’s hand. “I’ll keep an ear out for you, okay? Are you so sure that Lancelot wasn’t a part of this? Or Snow herself?” 

 

They both gape at her. She shrugs. “I think you have your own issues with Blue that might be blinding you to more obvious answers. _I_ have issues with Blue, but even I don’t think she’d be able to kidnap your son.” She flutters off, leaving them both dissatisfied and scowling.

 

“She’s wrong,” Emma says immediately. “Blue had to have-“ 

 

“Maybe not Blue,” Regina concedes a moment later. At Emma’s outraged look, she admits, “Tink is right. That kind of light magic is unchanging. But if someone else was acting on Blue’s behalf- without her explicit request–“

 

“Another fairy? Or someone else?” 

 

“Could be anyone,” Regina says glumly. “We’re back to square one.” 

 

* * *

 

Snow is reticent and needy at once, concerned about both of them having a good time and desperate to keep them around her. She has moods now, ups and downs that follow each other rapidly, and they’ve had to confiscate her bow from her after a particularly hysterical murder attempt toward Regina.

 

Zelena doesn’t target the summer palace. Her attention seems fixed on Regina’s castle, not even Regina herself, and they deal with one attack of vicious swans- yes, swans, and Mulan laughs under her breath whenever she sees Emma for the next day- and nothing else worth worrying about beyond Regina and reacting to her presence.

 

There are their quiet conversations with Red about Blue and there are awkward pauses in the hall when they run out of Henry and Snow-related topics and are trapped without buffers between them. “Uh,” Emma says eloquently during one such time. They’re heading down to the underwater springs where Red has promised a surprise for everyone. “A surprise, right?” 

 

“Alcohol,” Regina predicts, and they shuffle along again with discomfort emanating from them. “Granny’s had a decent stash of hard liquor if you came at the right time of night and knew who to ask.” 

 

“Yeah? You drank with all the commoners?” Emma says, interested. She can’t imagine Regina lurking in taverns and getting drunk, not when she holds herself so distant from the rest of the kingdom.

 

Regina laughs shortly. “I bottled up my cider and passed it on to Granny, actually. I rarely partook in late-night shots. In exchange, Granny made sure Henry could walk into the diner at any time and have whatever he wanted.” She looks wistful now, yearning in her eyes at the memories. “He had the run of the town. I know you so wanted him to never be under siege here.”

 

And they’re back to safe, safe Henry talk. “I didn’t,” she agrees. “Even in the cabin…he was out in the woods all the time, but never went too far. He never got to run around a market or make friends beyond Aziz or…” She licks her lips. “He went to school there, you said?” 

 

Regina nods. “Snow was his teacher in the year before the curse.” She walks down the corridor to the stone stairs carved into the ground. The summer castle had been built onto a mountain, and now they descend into it toward the hot springs. “I thought…at first I thought she’d been the one to tell him about the curse and give him that damned book.” 

 

“Book?” They’ve all referenced this book before, but no one has explained what it was. 

 

Regina sighs, weary and unhappy at the thought of it. “It was…a calculated tale. It did tell Henry about the curse, but it painted me as his kidnapper, as your tormentor, as a vicious queen with no mercy or love. That…that wasn’t true?” The assertion falters and emerges as a question instead, Regina avoiding Emma’s eyes again.

 

Emma could comfort her now, assure her that she hadn’t been the villain the stories had insisted she’d been. “Do you think it is?” she asks instead.

 

“I don’t know. I think you were…very much tormented by me. I was very much tormented by you,” Regina adds. Emma turns sharply. Regina doesn’t elaborate on that. “I’d like to think that when we hurt each other, it was never so malicious as the book would paint it. Except that last time.” She sucks in a breath. “I don’t think there’s an apology strong enough to make up for that.” 

 

“I don’t think there’s an apology strong enough to make up for taking Henry from you,” Emma counters. That final violence had never felt as personal as the others, and only that had hurt- that she’d become inconsequential, an object of Regina’s hate and pain and no one more than that. And Emma had taken their child from Regina and had seen it as some twisted kind of atonement. _Fuck_ , she'd been screwed up by the end.

 

She clears her throat. “Anyway, I. Uh. I can’t absolve you for what you did to the people in the name of punishing Snow White. It’s not my place to speak for them. But you weren’t my tormentor. You took care of me. And that book sounds like it had an agenda.” She laughs, forcing the bitterness down. “I mean, I did too, I guess. I loved you.” 

 

Regina studies her for a moment. Emma quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that comes as a shock.” 

 

“You told me you loved me three times after I became the Evil Queen,” Regina says softly. 

 

They’re in such dangerous territory that Emma can’t breathe. Maybe it’s fumes from the hot springs or the sudden suffocation from within, a lump in her throat expanding to smother her lungs. “Three times?” 

 

Regina had rarely said it either. They’d spoken about love but in general terms, with the easy acceptance that it had just been unchangeable fact. Emma and Regina had loved each other, even if it hadn’t been enough. They'd existed as lovers and no words would do anything but turn their bonds to chains. “Once when you rejected me in the woods,” Regina murmurs. “Once when Henry was born safely in my home. And once when I decided not to cast the curse. You doled them out like rewards to keep me in my place.” 

 

The tone is gentle but the words make Emma flinch, stumble backward on the stairs into a stone wall as she gapes at Regina. “ _What_?” 

 

Regina presses her lips together. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

 

“You thought I didn’t love you,” Emma says disbelievingly. “You thought…after everything…” Regina shakes her head. “Tell me,” she demands.

 

Regina says, “I never doubted that you had feelings for me. But Emma, you went from telling me that I was a lost cause to suddenly embracing me once you were in trouble. I never begrudged you it,” she says hastily. Emma is still gaping at her. “I only wanted Henry’s safety, too. But you can’t tell me that your love wasn’t contingent on my treatment of Henry or Snow.” She turns back to the stairs. There’s the sound of laughter from below them, and Emma grabs her arm. “You loved me when I took care of Henry and you hated me when I struck Snow down. It was what it was.” 

 

“No. No, you _ass_ ,” Emma says fiercely, and pulls her close and nearly kisses her right then. Regina is standing close enough for their breaths to mingle and Emma touches her lips, strokes her fingers against them and trails them down her neck to the skin exposed by her robe. Her hand spreads over Regina's heart, at her left breast, and there’s a sharp intake of breath from Regina.

 

She remembers then who they are now, that they don’t do this anymore no matter how much of an idiot Regina is right now. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she says finally, dropping her hand. Regina wavers. “But you’re wrong.”

 

She stalks the rest of the way down to the water and doesn’t think to be modest, yanks off her robe and tosses it to the side as Regina’s eyes widen and Aurora titters nervously behind them. Red tosses her a bottle of something that smells terrible and says, “Come on in, both of you.” 

 

If there’d ever been a more appropriate time for alcohol, Emma doesn’t know. 

 

The springs here are an outlet in a larger underground river, turquoise blue and surrounded by rocky walls. It’s just four others down here tonight- Snow, half asleep already in the soothing water; Aurora half-draped across Mulan and Mulan uncomfortable beside her; and Red perched on a rock and happily drinking her terrible ale. They’d all thought to wear bathing suits. Emma had not.

 

Nor had Regina, from the look of things, and she kicks off her shoes and takes off her robe carefully, lowering herself into the pool as the heat flushes her cheeks, and she undresses at an angle so no one but Emma can see her tug off her robe. Emma stares and stares- traces the curve of Regina’s hips, watches dark nipples harden in the air, and her mouth goes dry as her eyes dip down to the neatly groomed hair just visible through the steam as Regina steps into the pool and dresses herself in appropriate clothing with a wave of her hand. She swigs down the whole bottle of ale in three short gulps and tosses it back to Red. “More.” 

 

Red smirks. “Gladly.” She tosses them both new bottles and slides back into the pool, sighing with satisfaction. “You know, we used to have pools like these in Storybrooke. Except you didn’t have to walk a thousand steps down to get to them.” 

 

“Jacuzzis,” Snow sighs wistfully.

 

“Jacuzzis,” Red agrees.

 

“Sounds like fun.” Emma opens the bottle and looks up to see Red's eyes wide with mock outrage.

 

“Emma!” she sputters. “Fun? Puppies are fun. Amusement parks are fun. Jacuzzis have _jets_.” Regina lets out a muffled little laugh and Red narrows her eyes at her. “I can’t believe you tore up that curse.” 

 

“It formed again in my castle stores. It’s not gone,” Regina says, tipping the ale into her mouth. “And this is atrocious.” 

 

“Granny tried to replicate the old brew but it’s not the same, huh?” Red raises her bottle to Regina. Regina rolls her eyes.

 

“I thought you didn’t drink with the commoners,” Emma points out, grinning.

 

Red makes a face. “Just Granny. She used to shoo me off when she’d come in with her cider and then Granny would have me clean up whatever terrible mess they made drunk cooking.” 

 

Regina makes an outraged noise. Mulan snickers. Emma leans forward. “Drunk cooking?”

 

“I didn’t know how to cook anything! And I had a very stubborn three-year-old in the house who only wanted ‘Little John’s stew,’ thanks for that.” Regina glares at Emma as though it’s _her_ fault, somehow.

 

Mulan says, “It’s a good stew.” Regina glares harder.

 

They drink for a while, the conversation turning to the trip to the Dark Castle and then Storybrooke, again and again and again as the alcohol makes them fuzzy and loose. Emma is simultaneously cranky about it and starving for more, to know everything about the town she’d never been able to see.

 

“Regina treated the whole town like her personal kingdom, you have no idea.” Red hops back out of the pool, unsteady. Aurora has made her escape already and Mulan had followed shortly after, tripping a little on her way upstairs but still shockingly sober.

 

“I conquered you! You were my servants. Subjects. Ugh.” Regina has drifted close enough to Emma that their legs are brushing, and Emma finds it very urgent suddenly to make sure that her skin is as soft as she remembers. She touches her knees and stomach and thigh until Regina bats her hand away. “How much of that damnable draught did you put in this?”

 

“She used to strut through town _every morning_.” Red slumps back against the rock and then pops up. 

 

Or maybe she’d always been up. The ground is getting kind of confusing. Emma puts her hands on Regina’s back to steady them and Regina stiffens and then relaxes, loose-limbed and lazy to her touch. Emma’s leg twitches. 

 

Red, meanwhile, is flouncing across the rocky path toward the stairs. “Hello, Archie!” she says to an imaginary person beside her. “Mind if I kick your puppy today? Snow White! I hope you suffer for all eternity. Ruby!” Now she does an exaggerated glance up and down the closest rock, licking her lips. “You look…delicious.” 

 

“Regina!” Emma protests. 

 

Regina says, rather tranquil, “None of that is true.” Emma is all over the place at this level of intoxication, limbs shifting wildly and mind whirring, but Regina mellows out, moves slower and cares very little- well. She does keep lighting tiny fireballs, but they fizzle out in the water. Emma wonders for a moment how many lives she might’ve saved if she’d brought some alcohol to the castle when she’d moved in. Then she wonders just what Regina had gotten up to with Red.

 

“You were totally into me!” Red accuses, toppling back into the pool. Snow is watching them all with lidded eyes, sinking into the heat without any alcohol to muddle her brain. She shrugs when Emma jerks to glare at her for answers. Red goes on. “You used to call me to ‘babysit-‘“ she hooks her fingers. “All the time. I know what that means.” 

 

“It means I wanted you to babysit my son while I went to town functions. You imbecile,” Regina adds halfheartedly. 

 

“Uh huh. Right.” Red wiggles her eyebrows at Emma and Emma splashes water at her. Regina rests her head against Emma’s and shuts her eyes and Emma’s hands go limp at last.

 

* * *

 

Snow complains about drinking parties she can’t participate in and Red insists that they aren’t going to endure two pregnant women without them, so late-night alcohol becomes contraband, slipped around to Mulan and Cinderella and even Granny, who holds her liquor with just as much aplomb as Regina. Emma tries to remind herself that she’s better off sober around Regina and monitors her alcohol intake more often than not.

 

And then there are the days she says, _Fuck it_ , and downs enough to make all the wrong choices.

 

Emma wakes up in Regina’s bed after one such night with Regina tucked into her side, her head resting against Emma’s abdomen and her arm flung across her hips. For a long moment she forgets herself, wiggles down into the covers like she’d used to when they’d fallen asleep like this back before the curse and nuzzles Regina’s nose softly. “Hey,” she murmurs.

 

Regina jumps- actually physically jumps, kicks outward with her knees and sends Emma flying off the bed. Emma tumbles down with a yelp and lands on a hard stone floor ass-first, sending sharp pain through her backside. “Ow!”

 

“Emma!” Regina slides over to gape down at her. “What are you doing here?” She pauses, panic flitting over her features. “We didn’t…did we…?” 

 

Emma notices suddenly that they’re both only half dressed, Regina in a robe and Emma without a shirt, that she has a hangover pounding at her skull and some restlessness still in her system, and that she’s in Regina’s room in the summer palace. “Oh! No. No, we didn’t.” 

 

She sounds defensive and doesn’t know why, but Regina is watching her with a raised eyebrow and lazy interest now. “I’ve been sexually frustrated for much too long not to notice if that all…suddenly…exploded…” She remembers again that she’s half naked and Regina is arching her back and back on all fours, eyeing her much like a cat might a creeping mouse. The panic is gone and replaced with hunger. Her eyes drag along Emma’s body, drawing out goosebumps with only her gaze, and Emma gulps. 

 

“Regina…” 

 

“Regina what?” Her voice is barely a hum, gently needful and so tempting as she drops the pretense. “It…It doesn’t have to mean anything.” But it _will_ , they both know it will, and Emma can feel the tingling that responds to Regina’s voice overpowering the tingling in her head from the hangover. Her thighs press together, suddenly desperate for friction that she can’t–

 

They’re moving too quickly, the effects of too much alone time and the ease of the days before finally sinking in. And yes, okay, not quite sober yet. She _wants_ it, she wishes it _had_ happened last night without the recriminations of this morning, and she reaches for Regina. It’s been so long, yes. She wants to pretend today. “Okay,” she says, tries to stretch out and up as seductively as she can manage, and smacks her head against– what had been under the blankets? Is that the head of a  _battering ram_?

 

She peers up at it. It is, dragon’s head carved into the front of it and the rest lying across the foot of the bed. Regina must have magically transported them into her bed and decided, for some reason, that they’d need a battering ram in the morning. Now vague memories are returning to her, a weapons raid in the middle of the night that had made no sense at all, and Regina is gaping at it now with the same dawning realization.

 

A helpless laugh bubbles up within her and Regina’s gaping at the battering ram like it’s an alien creature and then she’s laughing too, the two of them shaking and snickering with their heads pounding and their arms falling and Emma’s head resting against the bed while Regina massages the spot where she’d nearly cracked it into a battering ram.

 

_A battering ram_. “You took a battering ram to bed,” she manages, laughing again, and it’s unrestrained in a way that it hasn’t been since they’d been with their baby. Or maybe it’s all that alcohol still in her system. “You took me and a giant piece of wood to bed. Did drunk you decide that this was a good idea?” 

 

“Drunk me wanted to curl up and go to sleep. This sounds much more like drunk you,” Regina sniffs, but she’s grinning and rubbing Emma’s head and Emma wants to purr like a happy kitten. “Sexually frustrated drunk you.” 

 

“You did _not_.” She climbs back onto the bed, legs planted on either side of Regina’s hips and Regina’s smile twisting into something more smug as she slides her hands around to the back of Emma’s head. Her eyes are dilated at Emma’s touch and Emma’s pretty sure that Regina’s holding back equal amounts of sexual frustration. Experimentally, she strokes Regina’s belly under her robe and elicits a tiny moan. _Oh, yes._

 

But then Regina lets out a little sigh and curls her fingers into the backs of Emma’s arms and tugs her closer, down to her, and in this moment- caught between laughter and need- her simple embrace is nearly as tempting. Regina’s arms are wrapped around Emma and Emma can stroke Regina’s hair and gaze at her as Regina gazes back, and it’s no different than any other night had been, once upon a time.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” comes the voice from the doorway. Emma jerks and falls off the bed _again_. This time it’s both Regina and Mulan laughing at her, and Emma groans and drapes the blanket over her as Regina tugs the other end back up around her, eyes drifting open and shut lazily. They’re both still a little drunk, then. Which makes sense. Because there had been good reasons not to be happy together.

 

“We’ve just gotten word from home,” Mulan says, holding up a scroll. “The Dark Curse has been stolen from your stores. Looks like Zelena did have a plan, after all.”

 

“Repeat that, please,” Emma begs, rubbing her head again. Regina waves her hand and the hangover and the aftereffects of Red’s ale are gone in an instant. As is the idea that any of this had been wise.

 

Regina waves her hand again, back to looking panicked, and she’s fully clothed in a moment as Emma scurries away from her, jumps up and pulls the blanket tighter and tries to look a little less horrified than she’s feeling.

 

It’s _so easy_ to put aside their baggage and just enjoy the simplicity of them together, to let the grief and distrust and resentment fade away and leave them playful and silly. Emma craves it– dreams of it– thinks back to Regina on the stairs,  _You doled them out like rewards–_  how she’d never been enough for Regina– knows it’s impossible now. That whatever had happened would have been a mistake.

 

She exhales and Regina exhales and she sees the big copper-plated battering ram poking out of the covers out of the corner of her eye and maybe she doesn’t scowl that much after that. Regina curls her lip like she isn’t going to laugh, either, and says finally, “Did you say Zelena’s been after the  _Dark Curse_?”

 

"Blue's already found out where she's moved her lair." Mulan fiddles with the scroll. "I'm sorry to cut your vacation short."

 

"They can't send someone from the castle?" Emma half-whines, knowing there's no use to it. Of course they're going to go. Of course...

 

"It has to be Regina who goes there," Mulan says apologetically, and Emma frowns.

 

Regina is sitting straight now, attentive and serious at last. "Where?"

 

"Your house, Regina." Mulan holds out the scroll and Regina rises in one fluid motion, crosses the room and peruses the message with troubled eyes. “Zelena has taken over your parents' home."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said to throw out everything you know about Zelena? Do it. Throw it out. Throw it tonight's episode most of all. This is not an opportune time for this lmao but I wanted to get this out anyway and focus on this AU so!!
> 
> Here there be backstory, some mentions of events of 2.05, and some callbacks that explain bits of chapters 5-6 of hearts left bleeding!

Emma’s had plenty of practice at finding her way through the dark, seeing with her hands and footsteps alone. She trails her fingers along dusty walls and senses faded grandeur, people determined to keep up its wealth until the only one who’d really cared had gone and so had the pretenses with her. Expensive wallpaper, long peeling. Doors that are ornately carved but hollow at the very center. Thinning carpeting that almost betrays the sound of their feet as Regina pads through the dark hallway.

 

It’s dry thundering outside, a lightning storm accompanied with little rain, and Regina has already assured her that this isn’t unheard of here. “Just here,” she’d said, a light frown on her face. “My mother’s doing, perhaps.” 

 

So this is Regina’s home. They haven’t lit it up enough for Emma to see it properly, relying on the element of surprise, but Regina pauses now and opens her hand to reveal a little ball of light hovering in her palm. She spreads her fingers and it grows brighter. “My room,” Regina says, nodding to the door in front of them. They’ve already checked the master bedchambers and the room Zelena had slept in as a child, and there’s been no sign of her. “Zelena used to stay up here with me. I’d had nightmares and Mother had thought me weak to need any companion, but even weaker when I’d scream. I didn’t scream around Zelena.” She inhales for a moment, presses her free hand against the door, and breathes, yet again, “My _sister_.” 

 

Emma has had some experience with unexpected siblings and the wonder that comes with discovering now much you might love one, and she very nearly smiles fondly at Regina’s wide eyes. 

 

Then again, David has never tried to kill her. She shoulders her bow and says, “Think she’s in there?” 

 

Regina traces swirls into the dust on the door. “It seems unlikely. Actually, Zelena living here at all is beginning to seem unlikely.”

 

“You think she’s been staying here for a different reason.” 

 

“I think she’s _waiting_.” Regina pushes the door open. “She meant to extend an invitation to me, and she knew that I would come if she was here. Zelena!” she barks out, but there’s only silence in the room.

 

Emma squints in behind her, catches sight of a simple bedroom exactly how she’d have imagined Regina’s to have looked, once upon a time. There’s a single ribbon on the wall beside her bed- “I sneaked out once when I was fourteen and won a riding competition. Mother was furious and sent my horse to a farm. I took the roughest horse in the stables and made him my Rocinante,” Regina says, not without some pride even now- and there are books stacked on the shelves, fairytales and adventure/romances unobtrusively stuffed in between larger, more proper volumes. Regina’s closet is nearly empty, and when Emma slides open a drawer of her night table, she finds a small stack of envelopes addressed to Regina in shaky, childish script.

 

“Daniel’s letters.” Regina turns to the window for a moment. “I didn’t bring them with me. I thought I would never have privacy in the king’s castle. I came back for them once- near the end, on the day of the apple- but I didn’t take them. I wonder if I was terrified of reading them and understanding what he’d have thought of who I’d become.” She stares at the letters and laughs, low and halfhearted. “He was a good man. Good men don’t love evil queens.” 

 

_You might be surprised_ , Emma almost says but thinks better of it. She might have loved Regina just days after Daniel’s death and has yet to make _that_ stop, but that seems to be just as easily contested by Regina as Daniel’s love. Regina and her one true love- the one who’d spurred her into hate and vengeance and despair and a heart seized from Emma’s chest- aren’t any of Emma’s business, not anymore. Maybe not ever. Instead she says, “I bet he’d love you now,” and regrets it immediately.

 

Regina doesn’t respond, just stares at her with eyes that flicker in the light of her palm, and Emma turns away to run her hand across the wall. She pauses at the groove in the wall that indicates a second closet in the room. Slowly, in the dim light, she traces her fingers along it until she finds what she’d known to expect- a tiny metal bar and lock on the outside of the door.

 

There’s only one reason why these rooms exist, and Emma’s jaw tightens when she thinks about it. She’d had her share of them in some of her stricter homes, and she’d always been glad to run off or be passed on from _those_. Hours and hours in silence and darkness had never inspired much good behavior or anything more than reckless fear in her.

 

She looks at Regina for permission and Regina nods, the orb in her hand growing brighter. “Mother had worse punishments that that. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she allows. “Just _boring_.” Emma slides open the door and her eyebrows shoot up. 

 

Where all the punishing rooms she’d been in had been empty and dull, this one sports a spinning wheel at the center of it and a chair beside it. There’s a pile of little tapestries laid out on the floor beside the thread, and Emma kneels down to squint at it as Regina follows her in.

 

“Mother had once been locked into a room in Father’s kingdom and had spun straw into gold during her isolation. I only ever spun ugly samplers.” She laughs, only a trace of bitterness in her throat, and Emma hates Cora a little more for Regina’s resignation.

 

She pauses on one tapestry, greens and browns in the background and a collection of what looks like men on horses in front of it, all centered around a man at the foreground of the group. He stands tall and his grey cloak appears to be whipping around his body and Regina growls, “Not a _word_ , Emma.” 

 

She says it anyway. “You were a fan of Swan Hood!” 

 

Regina huffs. “You were a mere legend. Someone for incompetent travelers to blame their woes on. I was a girl besotted with legends.” Emma’s smirk widens. Regina says, “I had no idea what an _idiot_ you were or I might have reconsidered that sampler.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma rolls up the tapestry and slides it into her bag while Regina glowers. “You wanted Swan Hood to show up and sweep you off your feet, didn’t you?” 

 

The pink tinge comes and is replaced with a roll of Regina’s eyes. “You still have no measure of the girl I was, Emma. I didn’t want Swan Hood to sweep me off my feet.” Now a smile is playing at the corners of her lips. “I wanted to run off into the woods and become a Merry Man.” 

 

“At which point I’d have swept you off your feet,” Emma suggests pertly, and Regina rolls her eyes again and turns to stare out the window opposite the punishing room. “What? I was charming.” 

 

“You were crass and childish and very, very stupid,” Regina says, shaking her head, but the words are downright affectionate to anyone who’s listening for it. She clears her throat. “Anyway. It doesn’t seem as though Zelena is in the house.” 

 

“You think she’s still somewhere here, though, right?” If Zelena really is lurking out here, waiting for Regina to come to her, it could be anywhere on the grounds. There are servants’ quarters outside the house, too, and the stables and–

 

“Daniel’s grave,” Regina says slowly. “She might be waiting for us there.” At Emma’s frown, she mutters, “It’s at the top of the hill. We tried on Mother’s slippers right under the tree where he’s buried.” 

 

“Oh.” Emma blinks several times, unsure where she fits into this segment of the hunt. The _Daniel_ part. No one questions that the two of them work together, and they’ve known how they work best from the beginning. Henry- a shared grief. Snow- a shared mission. They offset light moments with intense awkwardness and they both know that there are some intimacies that aren’t to be shared anymore. 

 

Intimacies like _Daniel_ , and Emma says, “Do you want me to stay here for backup while you go?” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Regina says sharply, and her hand finds Emma’s wrist in the dark and tugs her along.

 

* * *

 

Daniel’s grave is illuminated by occasional bursts of lightning behind the tree, and Emma glances up at them warily as Regina kneels down beside the tombstone. There’s no sign of Zelena here, either, but Emma keeps wisely silent and wonders again about the boy who could spur this kind of still-consuming love from Regina, who loves more than anyone she’s ever known.

 

Maybe it was only that he was a boy who’d loved her.

 

“He isn’t here anymore,” Regina murmurs suddenly. “I preserved his body with a spell and there was a man- a doctor, or…Jefferson called him a _wizard_ here, though he loathed magic- he brought him back to life in Storybrooke.” 

 

An arrow slips out of Emma’s hands and to the ground. “Oh,” she says, struggling to sound casual. “He was there during the curse?” 

 

“After.” Regina glances down the hill, toward the stables in the distance. “For a brief time. He was in great pain and he begged me to let him go. I was forced to turn him back to dust.” Her voice had been dispassionate until it had quavered on _dust_ and Emma stares at the carved heart visible on the tombstone and says nothing. 

 

She doesn’t realize that Regina’s watching her until she looks up abruptly and catches a gentle gaze, sorrowful but knowing, and if they weren’t…whatever they are now... she would have taken Regina into her arms right then. Instead, she hurts for Regina and hurts for herself and hates that she does both.

 

And then there’s a distraction, a flash of movement behind Regina, and her brow furrows as she squints into the dimness. There’s a glow about whatever creature it is, long and shining, and she identifies it finally. “Hey. Unicorn.” 

 

She hasn’t seen one of those since the curse had broken, maybe even before that, and she’s smiling at it when Regina says, “No, unicorns.” 

 

Unicorns are more solitary than horses, she’d thought, and she blinks with surprise as she makes out another one racing in their direction. And another, coming from another angle.

 

She turns in a slow circle, reluctant to raise her bow at the animals, and she counts at least a dozen of them, all running in their direction, but coming from the west, the north, the south…and none of them from the east. “We’re being herded,” she says disbelievingly. “Zelena’s trying to force us to run to…” 

 

_The stables_. They stand to the east, a little building unlit and open, and Regina shakes her head. “No. I have magic, I’m good with horses. I can take care of these unicorns.” 

 

There’s a thread of desperation in her voice. Emma is unimpressed. “They’re being sent to _hurt_ us. These aren’t normal unicorns. We need to go.” 

 

“I won’t go back there!” Regina snaps. 

 

“We don’t have a choice!” 

 

“Trust me.” But her voice is high and afraid and the unicorns are bearing down on them and Emma fires one arrow before she grabs Regina’s arm and yanks her as she runs. Regina wrenches it free and lets out a low curse as she whirls back around. 

 

“Regina, for fucks’ sake–“ Emma raises her bow again and the unicorns are already too close, moving through Regina’s magic as though it doesn’t exist and snarling as they rear up. Regina finally bolts, Emma right behind her, and the unicorns follow them, tightening their ranks around the stables until Emma and Regina finally stumble inside.

 

There’s another crack of lightning, a crash of thunder above them, and it finally begins to rain against the roof of the stable. And Zelena steps out from behind one stall and says, “Hey, sis,” and sends a green bubble of light toward them.

 

Regina’s purple one emerges instinctively and the shockwave from the two meeting splinters the wooden arches above them and sends rails crashing to the ground. Emma ducks and Zelena laughs. “Watch your pet, Regina. Don’t want to take off her head, do you?” 

 

Regina snarls out a response and hurls a fireball at Zelena. Zelena dodges and a stall bursts into flame instead, orange flames casting new shadows on the wall. Zelena fires more magic at Regina. Regina fires back. Rain batters the roof of the stable.

 

“Why did you come here?” Regina demands, their magic meeting again. This time, posts crack and fall around them and Emma is so busy dodging them that she nearly misses Zelena’s answer.

 

“You have something I need,” is all Zelena offers, and Regina’s eyes flash as she fires again.

 

She digs into her pocket and retrieves the weapon they’d come here with, the reason why they’d gone after Zelena in the first place. Blue’s vial of the potion meant to stop Zelena gleams in Regina's hands and she says, eyebrow quirking, “Not this, is it?”

 

Zelena _freezes_ , stiffens and goes rigid and actually shrinks back against the wall as though she’s terrified of Regina. “What…” she croaks. “Where did you get that…?” 

 

Emma steps in. “Listen, Zelena, we don’t want to have to use it. Hand back the curse and we’ll–“ 

 

Zelena lashes out again, throws what looks like an enormous ball of energy in slow motion toward them. It’s larger and it crackles with murderous intent, stronger than anything she’s sent at them before, and Emma ducks down as the stable begins to fly apart from the force of it. 

 

Regina meets it with growing energy of her own, large and clumsy and unlike anything Emma’s seen her use before. This is a shield thick with magic, strong enough to repel Zelena’s weapon, and she’s shaking with effort as she holds out her fists and lets magic escape from her knuckles.

 

And then there’s a crash of lightning above them at the least opportune time, arcing through the ruined roof to hit the energy that must have drawn it there, and for a moment, everything is fire and light and destruction. A pillar of wood spins through the air and the last thing Emma feels is it smacking her face as everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up what must be moments later, judging from the buzzing of the magic around her and the pieces of the stable still falling nearby. Someone is screaming and she can’t quite focus yet, isn’t back in the waking world completely and can’t open her eyes to see. _Regina. Regina is screaming_.

 

She struggles to move and discovers that she can’t, that something large is resting across her chest, and Regina is still crying out her name.  _“Emma! EMMA!_ ” and there’s another voice she knows she recognizes speaking in irritated tones, loud and anxious, and Regina is sobbing and cursing the stables they’re in- _Daniel, Emma, my first love and the love of my life_ \- Emma doesn’t know what she’s saying or even if she’s imagining it all- and shouting Emma’s name again. 

 

Emma opens her eyes and Regina lets out a gasping sigh as she does. “Regina?” Emma whispers.

 

“I’m here. I’m right here. How are…are you all right?” Regina manages, and Emma turns her head so she can see her. There’s a piece of the wall between them, but Emma spots her through the slats of it, gazing at her through air that seems to glow different colors between them. Her eyes are red and her face has lost all its color and her hands look bloodied and are pressed to the disturbance in the air. Zelena is a few feet away, her hands reaching for Regina’s arms like she’s been about to pull her away, and the vial lies shattered on the ground between them.

 

“I’m okay. My head hurts,” she offers, shutting her eyes again. It hurts to have them open too long. “What happened?” 

 

“Our magic…burst. Zelena and I are trapped in some kind of sphere of our combined magic. We’re going to have to wait until it fizzles out.” Regina sounds uncertain and irritated about it at the same time, and Zelena sighs deeply. “Can you get out on your own? My magic isn’t working in here.” 

 

Emma tries shaking her head but it pounds in protest. “I’m tired,” she mumbles, cracking her eyes open again.

 

“Concussion,” Regina decides. “Best thing you can do until I get you is rest. Close your eyes, darling. It won’t be long.” Her voice is still soft and wet and she reaches out again, braving the energy that burns her palms to touch the edge of her bubble. Emma catches Regina’s red eyes with her own as hers flutter shut again.

 

Zelena says, snippy and low, “Are you quite done?” 

 

“You’re a nightmare,” Regina growls back, but the bite of it is gone, relief in every cadence of her voice. Emma can hear them murmuring back and forth, arguing on whose magic had done what, but neither one is trying to kill the other so she thinks it might be okay to sleep.

 

She hovers somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, Regina’s voice present in both states. “You didn’t like the stables,” Regina says.

 

“The horses didn’t like me,” Zelena corrects her. “Too much magic made them antsy. I rarely rode without them bucking me. But I knew you’d come here.” 

 

Regina says, “Why did you want me here?” Emma strains to stay awake for the response. 

 

Zelena is quiet for so long that Emma thinks she might’ve drifted off to sleep when the witch finally says, “The Dark Curse, Regina. Why do you think I need you?”

 

_The heart of the thing you love most_ , Emma reminds herself with a moment of terrible clarity, and Regina says, “Ah,” and is very quiet then.

 

There’s another long pause, and then she murmurs, “It doesn’t have to go this way, Zelena. If you chose to join us instead of–“ 

 

“Shut up,” Zelena snarls, angry again. “Shut up and don’t you dare suggest it. Do you think I trust you now? Do you know what it means that the one I…that I need _you_ for this curse? A girl I loved two decades ago? Do you know what you _did_ to me?”

 

“I have an inkling,” Regina allows. Zelena lets out a frustrated noise and Emma thinks, _It’s different, it’s different_ , and she struggles against the posts holding her down until exhaustion sets in again. “Why the curse, Zelena? What good will it do if I’m already dead?” Emma hears the fear behind the question and Henry in her voice.

 

“Do you think you’re the only one who deserves my punishment?” Zelena demands, and Emma is afraid with Regina for Henry. “ _She_ is in that land, I’m sure of it. Whatever she did with the slippers, she always wanted to return there.”

 

“The slippers,” Regina echoes, and there’s an odd note of understanding in her tone, as though she’s asking a question she’s already gotten the answer to. “Who took the slippers?”

 

“ _Dorothy_ ,” Zelena spits out, and with the name comes so much agony and hatred that Emma braves past her headache to open her eyes. Zelena and Regina are sitting now on either side of the bubble, the spilled potion glowing a toxic green between them, and Regina is nodding with dawning realization. 

 

“Tell me,” she says, her voice firm like Emma imagines it'd be while talking to Henry, and Zelena laughs caustically.

 

“There is no story you deserve, Regina. There’s nothing to tell. Dorothy was an agent of the wizard.” 

 

“The Wizard of Oz?” Zelena’s eyes narrow and Regina adds, “There was…a tale. In the Land Without Magic. He was in Oz after my time, I suppose?” 

 

“Glinda was…Glinda took me under her wing. She recognized my talent and nurtured it. I know you saw her as our tormentor, but once I had nothing else, she was there for me. She taught me even though I had dark magic and all of Oz loathed me for it.” Zelena drapes her hands on her knees and stares into space. “I was an abomination and she treasured me regardless.”

 

Regina looks sick at Zelena’s declarations. “She told you that? Even Mother never really…” Her voice trails off as Zelena glares.

 

“She _treasured_ me,” Zelena repeats. “And then came the wizard.” She sneers. “Arrogant, obnoxious, and he built his little empire on the promises that he would kill the Wicked Witch of the West. People flocked to the Emerald City, and Glinda warned me to stay safe.” She shrugs, blue eyes bright against skin that is devoid of green today. “It was all she could do against him, I suppose. I was afraid, and I finally tried to take back the one thing of mine she’d kept.” 

 

“You tried to take the slippers and run. How old were you?” Regina still looks ill. “How long were you with Glinda?” 

 

“A long time.” Zelena stares down at the vial. “I must have been twenty at least when all of this went on. I wasn’t…I hadn’t hurt anyone back then, not intentionally. I just wanted to flee. So I went to find the slippers. I _stole_ the slippers. And Glinda banished me from her kingdom for it.” 

 

“They were yours. She had no right.” 

 

“She had every right.” Zelena bows her head. “Glinda only ever wanted me to be good. Glinda never _abandoned_ me,” she snaps, eyes accusing on Regina, and Regina doesn’t look away. “And I failed her.”

 

Regina is diplomatically silent about her opinion on that. Emma’s pretty sure she shares her opinion. But Regina is being careful now, tugging out the information from Zelena with all the gentleness of a mother with child. “Where did you go?”

 

“To an abandoned castle in Winkie Country. Glinda and I had fought and the slippers had been thrown…somewhere with magic. Somewhere we couldn’t find them.” She winces. “I had nowhere else to go. I stumbled into the castle and locked myself there for as long as I could, guarded myself with all the beasts of Winkie Country and learned how to strike back against those who hated me, and the Wizard of Oz sent a girl wearing the slippers to destroy me.” 

 

“Dorothy.” 

 

“Dorothy.” It’s the same anguish in Zelena’s voice again. Regina looks as though she’s about to reach for her and thinks better of it. “She was a bit younger than me, but she had a quick wit and a pretty face and I thought the world of her. I had been suspicious of visitors and even more suspicious of a girl with my shoes on her feet. But she’d been kind to me.” 

 

“No one had been kind to you,” Regina whispers. “So you loved her.” 

 

“She wanted to go home. She spoke about it all the time, about a Land Without Magic and the family she’d left behind. A grandmother, an aunt and uncle…” Zelena’s face darkens. “I didn’t tell her what the shoes could do. I didn’t want to be alone again. But I wasn’t the only one hiding things.” She shakes her head. “It took her weeks to make her move. I never understood it, if the Wizard had sent her to earn my trust. She’d had it for ages when she struck. She didn’t need to _stay_ , not unless she’d…” 

 

She’s biting her lip, staring down at the spilled potion that still glints in the light of their magic bubble, which- if Emma isn’t hallucinating- appears to be thinning. “She used _that_ on me. Poured it over my head and told me I was dark and twisted and she had no choice but to destroy me. She told me she was working for the Wizard and he was going to send her home if she killed me. And so…” Zelena raises her hands, and the green spreads across her skin again like a bruise, until all she is is green skin and blue eyes and orange hair. “She poisoned me and I woke up in the Enchanted Forest, dying.” 

 

Regina does touch her now, leans over the spill to trace curved fingers along Zelena’s jawline. Zelena shudders and doesn’t pull away. “That’s what the potion does? Turns you green?”

 

“It showed the world who I truly was on the inside and left me tainted with my own magic.” Zelena touches her skin, just below Regina’s hand. “And it went too deep into me. I nearly died, and when I woke up I was no longer green, but…changed.” She shivers. “Rumplestiltskin found me. I told him everything, and for a time he took me on as an apprentice- I was _his_ , he told me. Mother had promised him her eldest daughter and double-crossed him because he hadn’t known about me until then- but then he saw the virus beginning to spread over my skin again and I began to lose my magic. And then I was deemed useless and tossed aside. I lived in poverty as a green-skinned novelty in Sir Maurice’s village for a long, long time.” 

 

“The potion,” Emma croaks, making the connection. “The one you had under the Dark Castle.” 

 

The sisters glance at her in surprise, as though they’d only just realized that she’d been awake. “I’d finally been able to use Rumple’s castle to figure out how to undo it. It took me seven years and it’s still only a temporary solution.” Zelena turns stubborn eyes on Regina. “And that’s what you consigned me to, Little Sis. Agony. Pain. Powerlessness. You and Dorothy and the damned Wizard. And you will pay the price for what you did.” She lunges forward suddenly and only then does Emma notice that the bubble is gone, the magic around them no longer holding them in, and Zelena is able to sidestep the potion on the floor now to reach her hand into Regina’s chest.

 

Emma shouts out a curse. The room is dark without the bubble and it’s impossible to see much, but Regina is laughing and she sounds victorious. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” she says, and Zelena shrieks with fury. “Mother taught me one thing: never bring your heart to a witch fight.” 

 

They’d left it with Mulan at the castle, just in case, and Emma had thought it was a reckless decision but now it seems like Regina had been the prudent one. Emma pushes against the posts lying across her with little effectiveness, calls Regina’s name as Zelena turns and there’s a flash of lightning and a flicker of something bright, maybe a unicorn’s horn- had the animals made it inside?- and Zelena’s hand is wrenched free and there’s movement in the dark, the sound of unicorns braying and rain and Regina calling Zelena’s name.

 

And then- a splash that could have just been a puddle except that Emma sees it hit Regina on the side of her face, sees Zelena jump back with wide-eyed terror and betrayal. The unicorns are leaving the stable, the glow has faded, and Zelena is gone with a whirl of green smoke and Emma can’t get free, not until Regina staggers over to her and forces the post off of her. “Emma,” she breathes, and Emma stares at her in horror. “Emma, can you move?” 

 

Emma sits up slowly, unable to understand how Regina is so focused on her _now, right now_ , and she ignores the pain of a few cracked ribs in favor of gaping at the spot where Regina had been struck.

 

Regina touches the side of her neck and draws her hand away, blinking down at the tips of her fingers as they come away wet. With her other hand, she creates a new orb of light just in time to watch the purple swirl to the surface, spreading along her hand and fading away as the poison- the poison that should be gone, that still lies on the ground around a shattered vial- sinks deep into her pores. 

 

“How is this possible?” she wonders, and Emma catches her as her eyes roll up into her head and she drops to the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

Regina’s bruised and battered from the ride by the time Beetle carries her to the castle. Emma had opted to ride Rocinante, worried about what the faster horse might do without Regina conscious to keep him steady, and Beetle had been as solicitous as any horse would be with his master’s…person…lashed to his back. Emma had ridden slowly, her heart in her throat, and paused only once along the way to send messages to the summer palace and the castle.

 

Blue is waiting in the main hall of the castle, looking miffed at the summons. “I’m not your personal fairy, Lady Swan–“

 

“Stop talking.” Emma holds up a hand. Regina is being brought in on a stretcher, Mulan and Snow hovering behind it, and she takes a breath. “That potion you made. How do we undo it?” 

 

“Undo it?” Blue looks puzzled for a moment. “I’m not aware that there is a cure. From what I know, it’s designed to remove the darkness from the recipient. Darkness can’t be poured into a receptacle without it coming from somewhere else.” She frowns disapprovingly, fluttering up to glare down at Emma. “What happened to the witch?” 

 

“Not Zelena. The potion somehow…Regina was hit by it,” she says, nearly grudgingly. Of all the people she’d like to seek help from, Blue is at the very bottom of the list. But she has no choice, not when- short of Zelena- Blue is the only one in this world who has knowledge of it. Maybe there’s some kind of magic convention where wizards and fairies and witches all exchange their newest brews. “It does more than just…take away darkness and you knew it all along,” she says accusingly. “It’s going to sentence her to a lifetime of infection.” 

 

But Blue is shaking her head and ignoring her accusations, hovering over Regina to inspect her as she’s carried up the stairs. “That’s impossible. That drop of blood meant that it would work on Zelena and Zelena alone, not the queen. Unless she had her own copy of it on her?” Blue suggests, and Emma freezes. 

 

“She wouldn’t have. She was…” _Terrified_ of the poison, traumatized in her story about it. She wouldn’t have been running around with her own version of it. “She didn’t have Regina’s blood.” 

 

“Are you sure?” Blue asks, and Emma thinks back for a moment to the first time she’d seen Regina in the Enchanted Forest again, remembers a streak of red on her wrist from the flying monkey’s claws that she’d decided she didn’t care about. Because she hadn’t cared about Regina.

 

Her eyes cloud up and she watches the upward ascent of the stretcher to their quarters, her heart pounding so loudly that it’s all she hears for a moment. She sucks in a breath. “You need to find a cure.”

 

Blue smiles, sharp and tight, and says, “There is no cure. Once the poison has been absorbed into her heart, it’s going to take away the dark magic she’s so fond of and leave her an invalid. Perhaps if she’d been a bit less–“ 

 

“Her _heart_ ,” Emma repeats, a sliver of hope lighting up in her chest. “But if she didn’t have her heart in her chest when she was hit-“ 

 

“Why wouldn’t she have her heart?” Blue tries and fails to conceal her disappointment there. 

 

Emma feels her jaw clenching again, irritated when she really should know better. “So it can be undone.” Blue looks reluctant and Emma feels her patience snap, the fear she’s been bearing with her on the trip home finally unraveling into anger now that she has a direction for it. “Don’t play games with me, fairy. I know you’re glad to see Regina go- I know you’ve been trying to get rid of her for years–“ Words are tumbling out, _Regina_ and _Henry_ and _where were you, why should I ever trust you_ and she doesn’t realize that she’s grabbing at the fairy, seizing her by two tiny legs and shoving her against a wall while she squeals in outrage, until Snow is yanking her arm away.

 

“She’s on our side, Emma,” she says, and Emma quakes with fury and Snow’s hands move to stroke her shoulders. “Regina needs you. Regina needs _Blue_ , doesn’t she?” She looks up pleadingly at the fairy and the fairy relents.

 

She says grudgingly, “If the magic hasn’t touched her heart, when you do put it in it should counteract some of the longterm effects of the poison and she’ll begin to heal herself.” 

 

“Some?” Snow asks. Her fingers are digging into Emma’s shoulders now, painful and hard. Emma stares at the ground, fists clenched so she doesn’t do something she’ll regret to Blue.

 

“It’s still in her skin,” Blue points out. “Her body will still reject the dark magic within it. But it can’t cleanse her heart, and a dark heart holds much more magic than a physical body. I can’t say if it will work or if she’ll ever be healed. I have no experience in this brand of magic.” 

 

“What can we do?” Snow is asking, eyes guileless and trusting as she raises them to Blue. Emma pulls away at last, stalks up the stairs toward their quarters where Mulan and the healers had vanished.

 

Regina is lying on her bed, eyes closed and hands folded together like a well-preserved corpse. Emma sucks in a breath and drops onto the bed, seizing a wet cloth proffered by the only healer still in the room and rubbing it against one of the raw bruises from her trip home.

 

“What did the fairy say? Can she be treated?” the healer murmurs, and Emma looks up and realizes that it’s Kalla, her midwife with Henry. Regina had said that she’d been one of the few she’d trusted as queen, long before Henry, and new wrinkles at the corners of Kalla's eyes betray concern for her even now.

 

“I’m not sure. I need…” She catches Mulan’s eye and Mulan retrieves a small silver box, a tiny heart-shaped window in the side where she can see the reddish glow. “Subtle.” 

 

“Regina doesn’t do subtle,” Mulan says, passing it to her. 

 

Emma opens it. She hadn’t seen the heart removed, had only been informed of this turn of events once they’d been on the road and Regina had been sure Emma couldn’t object to it, and she stares at it now with fascination. She knows there’s talk about hearts that are black and red and what darkening your heart truly means, and Regina’s glows a healthy red. There are dark veins that stretch across it, dim beneath the surface, but they only dull the glow, don’t change the color of it. And there’s no purple.

 

She raises the heart and takes a deep breath, stroking it with her thumb. Regina shifts in the bed, nearly purring at the tough. “You just push it in,” Mulan instructs her. “Put it over where her heart is and–“ 

 

“I need you to hold onto this a little longer,” Emma interrupts. Mulan stares at her curiously. She bites her lip, unwilling to bring up her distrust of Blue. She’ll get condescending smiles, she’s sure, reminders of how stubborn she is, and even- in the worst case scenario- a casual mention to Blue or Snow about something that might risk Regina’s recovery.

 

Emma isn’t in the business of risking Regina’s recovery, but she’s pretty sure that putting her heart back in is riskier than keeping it out. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Just the Merry Men. No one but you and Lancelot and John and Will.” She glances up to Kalla and sees fierceness in her eyes, the same protectiveness she’d expect from anyone who’s known Regina this long, and she knows this room is safe.

 

She doesn’t realize how antsy she’s being until Mulan’s hand closes over hers, plucking the heart from it reassuringly. “Okay,” she murmurs. “We’ll protect it.” And Emma finally sags beside Regina on the bed.

 

* * *

 

The purple mark reappears two days into Regina’s sleep, spreads like a nasty bruise in the places where the potion had touched her neck and fingers and doesn’t move any further than that. It roils in a mass of nearly living disease, and Kalla proclaims that it goes too deep to be cut out.

 

This time it doesn’t fade and Regina doesn’t wake, but sometimes she gasps for breath in her sleep and her forehead is wet with sweat and she’s shaking in place. She’s been dressed into a simple white gown and her hair is spread around her face and she looks more like she had at nineteen than she has in years, and Emma curls up in bed next to her when she’s suffering most and holds her tight until the thrashing subsides.

 

She falls asleep beside Regina when she does sleep and wakes up to healers busying themselves with her unconscious companion. “Zelena might attack the castle, if she’s after Regina’s heart,” Snow says one day. She’s in Emma’s seat and Emma is curled up on the bed, her arm loose over Regina’s waist. Regina’s chest is rising and falling rapidly but it seems to still a little whenever Emma puts her hand against it. “She must have had a purpose in poisoning her.” 

 

“Vengeance,” Emma says dully. “She blames Regina for Cora abandoning her. I guess she’s trying to do all the things that had happened to her to Regina.” 

 

Snow shakes her head. “It’s so long to hold onto a grudge- Yes, I know,” she says when Emma’s brow furrows at her. “Regina and I were…different. She _lived_ with me for so many years, hated me all along, and I never understood it and that only made it worse. Not that I think murdering me over it was ever valid,” she adds quickly and Emma almost laughs. “But Zelena had one incident and she’s been dwelling for this long?” 

 

“She had some…thing,” Emma says, which really isn’t an explanation at all. “With Glinda.” She’s been in homes where she’d been made to feel less than she is, where she’d been conditioned to hate herself through pretty words. Not often. Not like Regina had, and not like Zelena had. And Glinda sounds like a force as toxic as Cora. “I don’t know how self-aware she really is when it comes to Regina now.”

 

Snow lets out a huff of frustration that makes it clear that she doesn’t understand any of this, and she sets aside the subject for the time being. “You should sleep,” she says. “You’re looking almost as bad as Regina is.” 

 

“I sleep.” 

 

“In your bed. Without nurses waking you up every few hours,” Snow says reproachfully. “We don’t know when Zelena comes, but you need to be alert and ready for– _Emma!_ ” She jumps and dodges the arrow just in time. 

 

Emma says, “I learned how to shoot lying down,” and puts it back on the shelf above Regina’s bed that they’d built for it before the curse. 

 

Snow sighs. “Emma, this isn’t going to help Regina.”

 

“These might.” Today she has a pile of magical texts that Tinkerbell had found for her stacked up on the night table, and she’s been scanning through incomprehensible elvish and squinting at text that she can read but barely understand for the answers she needs. 

 

Snow stares at her for a long, exhausted moment- and Snow’s a hypocrite, anyway, because she’s here nearly as often as Emma and isn’t physically capable of being here any more than that- before she pulls one down and opens it, too, leaving their argument for now.

 

* * *

 

It’s been nearly a week. Regina is freshly bathed in the afternoons, but today it isn’t enough to rid the pallor from her face. She’s shivering under her blankets and the purple mark is nearly black and Emma squeezes her hand and whispers reassurances in her ear, stories about Henry as a baby and musings about what cure Zelena had found and anything, anything, just in case Regina might be able to hear her. 

 

Mulan is the one to try to pry her away from Regina today. On their last occasion, she’d come with Lancelot and Lancelot had lifted her over his shoulder while she’d kicked him and tried to carry her out of the room. “How is he?” she asks, blinking blearily at Mulan. 

 

Mulan passes her a plate of food. “He still has the bite marks on his shoulder. He’s been telling everyone that you injured him in a night of passion.”

 

“He has _not_.” 

 

Mulan laughs in peals that ring in this room of death and brighten it a tiny bit. “No one would believe it. You’ve been very…singleminded here.” 

 

Emma’s hand tightens around Regina’s. “Fine.” 

 

“Not fine,” Mulan corrects her. “Emma, have you seen yourself recently?” 

 

“I don’t care.” Emma doesn’t want to argue this now, doesn’t want to endure another list of demands for her to leave this room. She _has_ seen herself, red-eyed and wan and thinner than she’d remembered, but she isn’t going anywhere. “Look. I’ve spent…I’ve lost a lot of time with the people I love. Partially because of Regina, yeah. But I’m not going to go one room over and go to bed while she’s suffering here. I’m not going to abandon her when it’s _convenient_.” 

 

Regina had accused her of love contingent on ease, on whether Henry had been present or Snow had been an enemy and never as simple as unwavering adoration. Emma knows she’s being stubborn now when there’s no one to prove anything to- no one but _herself,_ and her inability to be content when someone she loves is helpless and hurting near her.

 

“Okay,” Mulan says simply.

 

“Okay?” 

 

“Okay. You win.” Mulan sits down in her chair and flips through the last spellbook Emma had read through. “You’re right, and I’d probably do the same in your place.” 

 

Emma squints at her suspiciously. Mulan’s face is serene. “Right.” 

 

“Did you know that Aurora propositioned me?” Mulan says suddenly. Emma raises an eyebrow. “At the summer palace. She told me she loved me, that Philip loved me, that we could all be a family together.” She shakes her head. “It was… And then Lancelot kissed me earlier this week.” 

 

“Everyone loves Mulan,” Emma murmurs, unsure where this is going. Maybe Mulan just wants to talk. “What did you do?”

 

Mulan shrugs. “I don’t want to be chained to King Stefan’s kingdom, looking after a child when I could be fighting instead. If I came back to them from time to time and we loved each other then, perhaps. I think we may have missed our time.” She plays with her belt, fingers running along the sheath of her sword, and when she looks up, it’s with uncertainty.

 

Emma says, “Sometimes that’s just how love works. It changes with our heartbreak. It’s good that you can still love each other after.” She isn’t really one to talk, with the eternity that is loving Regina her primary experience with love, but she thinks about Merry Men and crushes she’d had and they’d had and of being fourteen and sneaking kisses with a village girl. “But Lancelot…he’s a good man.” She’s protective of him and protective of Mulan and she doesn’t know quite how she’d react to one of them hurting the other.

 

“He is,” Mulan hastens to agree. “And I do feel quite a bit of affection for him. I just…I don’t know if I’m ready to be his right now, either.” 

 

“What do you want to be?” 

 

Mulan looks up, lips pressed together for a moment as though she’s afraid of what she’ll say next. “I want to be a Merry Man. Person,” she amends, running her fingers through her hair. 

 

Emma gazes at her, lets Regina go for a moment to reach over the sleeping queen and take Mulan’s hand. “I want you to be a Merry Person too,” she whispers, grinning and a little teary-eyed over it. _Not enough sleep._

 

Mulan’s looking firm and uncertain at once. “I want to _mean_ something. Something more than just lover or wife or mother. I want to fight with you as my leader and protect your queen.” 

 

Emma shakes her head. “I have two of those. Imagine what it was like when they were _fighting_ each other.” 

 

“I know what you would have chosen,” Mulan says, warming up to the distraction. Emma blinks down at Regina and Mulan says, “No. Not just…Not always Regina. You choose what you feel is right, don’t you? It’s what I’ve admired about you all this time, before I even knew you. You don’t subscribe to whatever the fairies or rulers decide is good.” There’s a glint in her eye that suggests that she knows exactly what had happened with Blue, after all. “You make your decisions based on your code. And I like your code. I respect your code. It’s why I follow you.”

 

Maybe it’s just exhaustion that has Emma flushing, maybe it’s Mulan’s eyes fixed on hers. “I don’t know.” 

 

“I like and respect Regina, too,” Mulan says. “You hear…you know all these stories about the Evil Queen and the nightmare she was in the kingdom. But then you meet her and she’s still so _human_ , so much more than some kind of dark executioner.” 

 

“She _was_ like that, back before.” 

 

“I see why you love her,” Mulan murmurs. “And I swear, all the Merry Men see it too. We’re loyal to you, to your love, to–“ 

 

Emma groans, falling down onto the bed again. “Why do I suspect that this whole conversation was about you not letting this go?” 

 

Mulan flashes a grin at her. “Well, it’s all true.” She lowers her voice. “Go. Sleep. I promise you that we’ll watch over her until you return.” As if they’ve been summoned, she sees the rest of them enter, John and Will and Lancelot hovering near the entrance to their quarters. Mulan nods to them and they move closer, surrounding the bed, and Little John guides her to sit.

 

She’s too tired to argue with them now, and she curls into his arms and lets him carry her to her bed.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up in the night to the sound of heavy gasping noises in the next room and staggers over to where her men are congregated around Regina, Lancelot pressing a cool towel to her forehead and Will holding her hands down so she can’t claw into her own skin. 

 

Emma shoves past them and burrows into Regina’s side, wrapping her arms around Regina until the gasping subsides, and she thinks she must have fallen asleep again around then because it’s light out and Lancelot is the only Merry Man left in the room, talking in low tones to Snow.

 

“How long have I been out?” she asks. Her head is still aching but it isn’t as bad as it’s been, and Snow is smiling like she’s finally satisfied when she says, “It’s hours past lunch. I can’t believe Mulan finally got you to sleep.” 

 

Emma bolts upright. “Regina didn’t have any more attacks since the night?” 

 

Lancelot shakes his head. “A few. You’ve been holding her in your sleep.” 

 

“Oh.” She leans against the headboard. “Thank you.” She strokes Regina’s hair, pulling it back from where it’s plastered against her forehead. “You go get some rest. I slept enough.” 

 

Lancelot looks ready to argue, but Snow nods to him, too, and he inclines his head and says, “There are others to protect,” in quiet acknowledgement. It isn’t reproof but Emma flushes like it is and stares down at Regina again in stubborn denial.

 

“You don’t have to save everyone,” Snow says once he’s gone. “There are plenty of people who will fight in your stead- and some who are fighting because of you. We’re all trying to feed and protect the kingdom. Don’t feel as though you aren’t doing enough when you’re fighting for our greatest fighter.” 

 

“I’m not _doing_ anything, though.” It’s her one constant doubt here, wrapped around Regina while Regina sleeps. “I can’t read these fucking spellbooks and I can’t make her stop hurting and all I’m doing is _hovering_. And I don’t even know what use I am for her there.” 

 

“You’re comforting her.” Snow lays a hand down on Regina’s. “I see how she hurts a little less when you’re holding onto her. She needs you, Emma.” 

 

Emma stares down at Regina’s closed eyes. “I don’t know if she ever needed me.” 

 

“Bullshit,” Snow scoffs, and it’s the most crude thing Emma’s ever heard from Snow’s lips. Snow shrugs at her shocked amusement. “Well, it’s true,” she mutters. “Regina has always needed you.” 

 

“She’s done just fine without me.” Emma can feel the helplessness welling up again, this one vulnerability she can’t seem to tamp down. “You left here and she was willing to destroy everything in her path for vengeance. And she came back a hero. It was never about me, Snow.” 

 

“It was _always_ about you.” Snow shakes her head. “We talked more about you in those years than we did even Henry. So much of who she became was because of her regrets with you, because she didn’t want to let you down with Henry. That book that caused all the problems? It only worked because it was about you. You’ve been a constant presence in her life for the past decade without even being there.”

 

Emma laughs, sharp and caustic. “Good to know that I’m exactly as good to her dead and alive.” Snow opens her mouth and Emma says, “No. Stop. Don’t pretend it was…I never made a difference until she thought I was _gone_. When we were here the first time, when I fought for her to stop with the curse or executions, it was always about Henry.”

 

“Because it was, or because you made it that way?” Snow asks, and Emma stares at her with little comprehension. Snow’s fingers are trailing across her skin now, soothing against her wrist as her knuckles brush Regina’s face. “I know you, Emma. And I know it’s our fault that you can’t imagine coming first for anyone, that you never thought yourself valuable enough to Regina to force her hand–“ 

 

“I _begged_ her.” Emma’s shaking against Regina and Regina shifts in her sleep, a hand reaching for Emma’s. Emma squeezes it and feels sick. “I begged her not to kill you. I begged her to run away with us. It was never enough. _I_ was never enough.” 

 

“She was angry and bitter and her hate was stronger than her love,” Snow whispers. “I don’t know if…I don’t think she knew how to build by the end, only destroy. I don’t think she would have trusted herself with you and Henry then, not until you were gone and she had no choice but to learn to nurture again.” 

 

“Good thing everyone thought I was dead, huh?” She tries for a creaky smile.

 

Snow gives her a pained look. “People _change_ , Emma. Regina changed. Regina picked love over hate at last and I’ve never doubted how much she loved you. She tried to have it all and it backfired on all of us. I think…if you spoke to her about what she’d been planning for you during the curse…” Snow sucks on her lip. “It's none of my business.” 

 

“Since when do you care about _that_?” Emma points out crankily, and Snow laughs and kisses her cheek. 

 

“I’m going to go get you something to eat. You’re doing good here.” She departs the room and Emma’s alone with Regina for the first time in almost a day.

 

Unbidden, her fingers move gently across her face, tracing her features as they smooth under Emma’s touch. Regina is very still right now, tiny on her big bed and fragile, and for a moment, Emma lets herself believe Snow.

 

She ducks her head, embarrassed at where her thoughts are leading, and she closes her eyes and mutters, “Dammit, Regina, don’t you dare laugh at me.” This is foolish and expects too much of something gone and buried, and still...

 

She bends down very slowly and presses her lips to Regina’s in a chaste kiss. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s waiting for- some kind of pulsing magic, the realigning of the cosmos, Regina sitting up…but there’s nothing at all, and she feels the hot tears slide out of her eyes onto Regina’s cheeks and hates herself for caring so much about a fairytale legend she’d _known_ would never work for her. 

 

But there’s a light whisper against her lips, and she hears the rasp before it sinks in that it’s coming from Regina. “Not…a curse.” 

 

“Regina!” She pulls back, bright red and wide-eyed, and Regina looks up at her through fuzzy eyes. “You’re…I didn’t…”

 

Regina shakes her head. “True love’s kiss can break any curse. But this is poison. That…it isn’t how it works.” She struggles to sit up and Emma helps her to the position, eyes still wide as she stares at Regina. “I’ve been…fading in and out all day…I think.” She reaches to stroke Emma’s cheek, brushing away the tears. “Hard to wake up. But didn’t want you to cry.”

 

“Regina,” Emma breathes, and she crumples in relief against the headboard, still very humiliated but relieved regardless. Regina reaches for her and holds her tight as she sags, Regina's arms unsteady and weak around Emma but still firm. Emma moves to support her, too, arms winding around her waist to hold her close, and Regina rests her head against Emma’s shoulder. “How are you doing?” 

 

“Weak,” Regina manages, hands bent against Emma’s back. “I’m losing my magic already.” 

 

“Your heart…”

 

“That must be it.” Regina pieces together in moments what Emma still hasn’t been able to figure out. “Zelena’s magic…she was still all right while her heart...absorbed the poison. It must have taken a long time. My body is a hollow shell right now.” 

 

“What happens if we put your heart back in?” 

 

“I think…Zelena’s still infected with the poison, even after stopping it. It’s coming from her heart. I can’t have my heart back while the poison is in me.” Her eyes open and close, eyelashes tickling Emma’s neck, and she’s hit with another quaking attack at that moment. It’s worse when she’s awake. She shivers and whimpers- _Regina,_ whimpering like a scared child- and her eyes are shut tight but tears of agony are still leaking from them. Emma holds her as best as she can, shakes with her and bites back her own tears. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Regina whispers when it’s over. “It’s…I’m so tired.” She burrows her head into Emma’s neck again and it’s so unusual for Regina, Regina who's always been one for fleeting touches and soft kisses and never anything so needy. “I’m…I’m…” 

 

“You’re afraid,” Emma guesses. Regina is strong and wild and desperate but she’s rarely fearful. She’s angry when she should be terrified, and Emma’s generally the same way. She _hates_ being afraid. She hates it right now, too.

 

Regina sighs, light and frustrated, and pulls away to catch Emma’s gaze, her jaw tensing and relaxing in a motion. “I don’t want to be helpless ever again,” she says, a quiet admission.

 

Emma nods silently. 

 

And then Regina’s eyes glaze over and then clear as though she’s only just realized something. “You thought…true love’s kiss?” 

 

Emma flushes, hot and ashamed, and she suddenly finds the pillows they’re sitting against fascinating. “I was out of ideas, okay? I didn’t…I don’t want to put any pressure on you or…I know it’s been a while since we were…” 

 

“Emma.” Gentle fingers lift up her chin and she sees that Regina’s eyes are gleaming with affection. “You really thought that true love’s kiss would… _Emma_ ,” she breathes again, and leans in to kiss Emma on the forehead. She’s trembling at the effort of the movement and Emma trembles at soft lips on her skin and when Regina’s fingers finally go limp at her shoulders, she shifts away to guide her back onto the bed.

 

“You need to sleep,” she says firmly. “I just need…one thing from you first.” 

 

Regina searches her face and then shakes her head. “It won’t work.” 

 

“It’s our only option,” Emma points out, reaching for paper from the night table. “And I won’t let you lie here and _die_ when we still have another way.” 

 

Regina sags. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger for me.” 

 

“I’d do anything for you,” Emma blurts out, and immediately regrets it. It’s too revealing, too much handed over to Regina too soon, and it’s absolutely true in terrifying ways. She loves too hard, always has, and she doesn’t know how to let it go with gracefulness.

 

But Regina’s staring at her with glistening eyes and she looks just a tiny bit more vibrant at the admission, and Emma won’t retract it now. “Please, Regina. Tell me. I swear, I’ll be careful.” 

 

* * *

 

She is careful. She follows the instructions on Regina’s paper, steals the vial that Blue had used for the poison and collects the other ingredients and sets them all out right in front of the cabin where she’d once lived. When it’s all set up, she drops the vial into the circle she’d drawn in the mud in front of the doorway and grabs her knife.

 

Zelena appears at the center of the circle in a whirl of green smoke, eyes wide and turning her head around in furious confusion, and Emma shoves her into the cabin doorway before she gets her bearings. Zelena raises her hand as though to blast Emma and nothing happens.

 

“It’s magic-proof in here,” Emma says, holding up her knife. “I wanted you to listen to me.”

 

Zelena glares hard at her. “Why the hell would I listen to you?” 

 

With determination wrought from days of thinking of nothing else, Emma says, “Regina needs your help,” and Zelena laughs in her face.


	7. Chapter 7

When Zelena finally stops laughing, Emma sits at her kitchen table, grits her teeth, and says, “You  _poisoned_ her.” 

 

“I did not. You brought the poison in to kill me,” Zelena points out. “It’s only poetic justice that you accidentally poisoned her instead.” The humor isn’t gone from her face, but there’s a smugness in place that has Emma prickly and annoyed. 

 

“Yes, we’ _re_ the ones who spiked a potion with Regina’s blood for fun. That doesn’t even make sense.” Zelena hadn’t been in the right place to have thrown the poison, but it had also been dark and raining and Emma’s senses had been compromised by that.

 

Zelena’s staring blankly at her now, looking perplexed. “What does Regina’s blood have to do with the potion?” 

 

“Don’t you know?” 

 

“Why would I? I’ve never made it. I had to design a cure from scratch.” There’s no lie in her voice, and Emma eyes her, still suspicious. Zelena holds up a hand, confusion set aside for the same smugness. “And now you think I’ll free my sister from what I’ve been suffering from for half my life?” She laughs, wild and manic.

 

Emma says, keeping her voice even, “You will because it’s poisoning her heart.”

 

Zelena’s eyes narrow. “You put her heart back in?  _Idiot_ girl.”

 

Emma ignores the question, careful so Zelena won’t suspect a lie. “You need her heart for your curse, don’t you? To go…find your Dorothy in the other realm. How effective is a spell with a diseased heart going to be?” She leans forward, hands on the table. “Regina needs to be cured or you’ll be trapped here forever. And you don’t want that, do you?” 

 

“You are the most irritating child I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, Swan,” Zelena grumbles.

 

“But you’re going to help me anyway,” Emma presses, feeling the stirrings of victory.

 

“Stop talking,” Zelena orders her, and Emma tries hard not to smirk. She fails miserably, and Zelena’s lip curls. “Follow me.”

 

Emma follows Zelena out of the cabin, bow raised and pointed at her. Immediately, a scroll of paper appears in Emma’s hands and she jolts back, dropping it and slamming an elbow into the wall. “ _Fuck_.” 

 

“So crass. I thought my sister would have better taste.” But Zelena is smirking openly now, smug and snide again. “You’ll need to find those ingredients in her private stores. Take a few drops of blood from under the infection. It’ll take days before the treatment is ready- less, perhaps, if you’re competent- and after that…well, it could be months before it clears up this time. Meet me here at dusk and I’ll begin the potion.” 

 

She turns on her heel, arms raised as she prepares to leave, and Emma blurts out, “Don’t you  _care_?” She can’t imagine it, hating the one she loves most so much that she’d have to be convinced to save her life and be so  _blasé_ about it. For all the hurt and resentment toward Regina, she’d never been capable of not caring, even when Regina had been taunting her and an arrow had been nocked in her bow. 

 

Zelena pauses, her back to Emma, and Emma watches her. She’s made of bony edges and sharp angles and she doesn’t really look like Regina but they both look like Cora, carrying on a legacy that had destroyed them. Emma doesn’t know if she’s imagining softness in her profile suddenly, uncertainty or defeat or fury, and she waits for an answer, fists balled around her bow.

 

“I don’t have time to care,” Zelena says finally. “I have vengeance.”

 

“So did Regina. It didn’t work out,” Emma says, and Zelena disappears in a puff of green smoke.

 

* * *

 

Zelena’s directions are sparse and direct with no explanation or description of any of the items on the list. Fortunately, Regina’s shelves are all neatly labelled in cramped handwriting. Unfortunately, Emma can’t make hide or hair of any of Regina’s reasoning in organizing her stores the way she has.

 

She’s crawling around on the floor now, head ducked under the lowest shelves in an attempt to see if  _essence of dragon_ is in one of the back drawers, when there’s an unpleasant voice behind her. “Ah. Emma.”

 

She jolts and smacks her head against the shelf. Blinking away sudden dark spots, she twists around and smiles tightly. “Hello, Blue.” 

 

She knows from Tink that fairies can change shape, can take human form at the blink of an eye, but Blue never opts for that here. Instead, she manages to fill the room with her tiny, fluttering presence- never quite the commanding aura that surrounds Regina as much as something oppressive and tight and everywhere, like breathing through a tube. 

 

“Looking for something?” Blue asks pleasantly, and the tube gets a little narrower. “Maybe I could help.” 

 

She’s in no mood for the games that exist behind words, not with Zelena waiting and Regina upstairs in pain. “Essence of dragon,” she says shortly.

 

“Third shelf to your left,” Blue instructs her. “It’s marked as ‘dragon scale’ here.” 

 

Emma opens the vial containing the scale and tips the smoke that emerges into her flask. “Thanks.” She pauses. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?” 

 

Blue purses her lips. “I don’t lie.”

 

“Yeah? How about the heart? Because everyone else I’ve spoken to seems to think that that would’ve made things worse for Regina.” Emma stands up. Blue hovers a little high so she’s still higher than Emma.  _Ass_.

 

“Emma,” Blue says kindly. She has a way of speaking that’s both condescending and encouraging,  _Emma_ not _Lady Swan_ when there’s no distance between them, and Emma suddenly feels as though she’s five and wishing on stars again. Her skin prickles uncomfortably. “I told you all I knew. I was very clear that my knowledge on that matter was limited.” 

 

Emma begins to nod before she catches herself, seizes her righteous anger and uses it to propel her forward. “But you want Regina sick,” she accuses.

 

Blue’s face twitches as though she’s struggling to lie. “Yes,” she says finally, her wings drooping. “Yes, I think we’re all better off with an evil queen without magic.”

 

Emma’s fingers are wrapped so tightly around the flask that she thinks she might break it. “Why?” she demands. “Why are you so set on hurting Regina? She’s  _good_ now. She's paid her dues for all of you. Why do you get to pass judgment on her when all she does is try?” 

 

Blue flies a little lower so she’s nearly at Emma’s eye line. “Oh, Emma,” she sighs. “I think Snow has been…misrepresenting Regina's allegiances during our time in Storybrooke.”

 

Emma freezes, a new fear creeping into her heart. She’d taken Snow’s words at face value, but Snow _loves_ Regina. And everyone around them loves Snow enough that her decisions wouldn’t be questioned. “You’re lying,” she says uncertainly.

 

“We’ve already established that that’s impossible.” Blue flutters back a few feet and Emma wraps her arms around her waist, eyes narrowed. “Ask around. Snow’s experiences with Regina are quite different than the rest of ours. One sacrifice can’t absolve her of everything that came before.” 

 

“I know what she’s done. Where do you think I  _was_ when she was running around executing villagers?” Blue stares at her, an eyebrow cocked, and Emma loses her patience. “And where were  _you_  when people were dying? When I was chasing her around the kingdom, trying desperately to lower her body count? There’s nothing you can tell me now that would–“ 

 

“She was willing to murder everyone in Storybrooke and run off with your son,” Blue says, and Emma stills. “That was about a week before we came here. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to exalt her as hero.” She comes a little closer, settles onto Emma’s shoulder, and when Emma shrugs hard, she stays there. “She locked poor Belle in an asylum for almost eight years. She allied with her mother and planned to murder everyone around Henry. For all Snow’s purported faith in her, she was rather convinced that Regina had killed you for some time.” 

 

Blue’s voice is honeyed sweetness and dangerous undertones, and Emma is frozen in place. “And Henry…your dear son…” Her voice trails off. “It isn’t my place.” 

 

“None of this is your place,” Emma snaps, irritated and frustrated. She knows what Blue is doing, what this is about-  _Regina’s magic. Faith in someone the fairies will never accept_ \- and she needs to know regardless, to be reassured that arguments against Regina’s motherhood are baseless. “But that hasn’t stopped you before, has it?” 

 

Blue smoothes her hands against her puffy dress. “I suppose not.” Emma’s neck is beginning to strain from staring up at her, and she turns instead, running her fingers along a shelf as Blue speaks. “Regina poisoned Henry,” she says, and Emma’s fingers seize up against the shelf. 

 

“The apple.” She’s gotten the story from Snow and the reluctant admission from Regina.  _I broke the curse to save Henry’s life. Nothing else mattered._ “It was meant for Snow.” 

 

“And Henry was collateral damage in Regina’s agenda.” Blue sighs again. “As all the people in her life have been, you perhaps most of all.” Emma scowls silently, stubbornly keeping her back to Blue. “Tell me, Emma, what do you think it was like, growing up in a town that didn’t age?” Emma doesn’t answer. “How very selfish it was, for Regina to condemn a child to that world.” 

 

“I would have done the same in a heartbeat,” Emma fires back, defiant. She doesn’t know if it’s true, if the aching need to give Henry  _family_ would be strong enough to decide that that would have been his best chance. She doesn’t know if she ever would have believed herself capable of giving him the mother he’d needed at all, not without Regina with her. But she can’t see the way Regina loves Henry and not believe that he’d deserved a mother like her. 

 

Blue sniffs. “Yes, well…that doesn’t surprise me.” There’s a note of suggestion in her voice, of words unsaid that Emma’s supposed to grasp, but Emma’s never been all that good with subtlety.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

 

Blue avoids an explanation. “She cast that curse and thought nothing of your child.” Her voice gentles. “Now, it’s possible that she’s changed since then. But this is the world he was living in before it. How can we in good conscience leave that kind of power in the hands of a woman so dark?” 

 

She’s moving behind Emma, a bright reflection in an urn on the shelf, and this time, when she lands on Emma’s shoulder, it’s with a wash of warmth through Emma like a mother’s kiss.  _Fairy-kindness_. That’s what they call it, this surge of gentleness that has children confessing secrets and trusting strange beings.

 

Emma, however, is neither a child nor particularly familiar with maternal warmth, and she flicks Blue away with a snort. “Are you trying to manipulate me?” 

 

“I’m trying to guide you to good choices,” Blue says evenly. “You’ve met Cora. You know what mothers with magic can be, just as I do. I’ve spent centuries protecting children from their parents, Emma.” 

 

“Henry doesn’t need to be protected. He isn’t even  _here_. Regina gave him up to save your life.” 

 

“Emma,” Blue wields her name like a weapon now. “I’ve been here all along. I saw how much you hated Regina’s magic, how it turned her into the Evil Queen. I saw her rip your heart out that day in the woods.” Emma flinches. “You’ve been the greatest casualty of the magic you’re so desperate to save right now. Why are you doing this?”

 

_Because Regina feels weak._ Because she’s trying now, and Snow’s faith can’t be misplaced, and Emma’s beginning to share that same faith. Because she loves Regina and won’t take away something she holds so dear. Because she doesn’t think of hearts being yanked from chests when she thinks about Regina’s magic; she thinks about little bursts of light that had made Henry giggle and paw at them. Because Mulan thinks she has a  _code_ and she knows instinctively that saving Regina is  _right_.

 

She doesn’t respond. Blue says, “Working with Zelena won’t serve you in the end,” and when she twists around in surprise, the room is empty again.

 

* * *

 

Upstairs, Regina is mumbling Henry’s name in her sleep, her body coiled into tight, sharp angles and her shoulders quivering, and Emma strokes her cheek and murmurs her name until her eyes open. “I need to take some blood.” It’s nearly dusk and Emma’s going to be late, and there’s no time to lose.

 

There’s no comprehension in Regina’s eyes at the request, no questions about why or how. She just lifts her head and tilts it when Emma touches her neck, eyes glued to Emma’s face like it hasn’t quite registered that she’s there. She doesn’t even blink when Emma cuts into the purple splotch, and Emma wonders for a moment how much pain she must be in not to notice it.

 

“What else can I do to help you?” Emma whispers, moving hair from Regina’s face.

 

Regina closes her eyes and then opens them, new shreds of consciousness beginning to come to life and dull at once. “Emma?” she asks, her voice small. “Is that…are you…?”

 

“It’s me.” She touches Regina’s cheek, presses her hand to it and lets Regina lean against it, and she’s about to speak again when there’s a filter of green in front of her eyes suddenly and the room vanishes from around her.

 

She’s standing in front of the cabin a moment later with a very critical-looking Zelena eyeing her from just outside the door. “You’re late.” 

 

Emma surges forward, shoving Zelena into the cabin before she can do any more magic. “You can’t just _do_ that! I was in the middle of something!” 

 

“You can wait until later to snog my sister,” Zelena says, rolling her eyes. She grows thoughtful for a moment. “Although you’re right. I _shouldn’t_ be able to do that. Regina’s magic is fading from her wards around the castle.” She frowns, and Emma studies her face for any sign of distress. It’s peeking in at the edges, Zelena too uncontrolled to hide it, but she sneers and it vanishes a moment later. “Tell me you have all the ingredients with you.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma digs into her pocket for the bag with the ingredients and Regina’s blood, handing them over. “Will it still work inside the cabin?” she asks, following her inside.

 

“It should.” The interior of the cabin has settled into the woods and aged- there are even some red-orange flowers growing beneath the kitchen table, and Zelena gives them a considering look as she responds. “The cabin blocks out active magic, but it must allow more passive magic to work.” She sets up her vials and begins laying out the ingredients.

 

Emma watches in silence, fiddling with the lamps around the room as she begins to wander the cabin. It’s been almost a decade since she’d last really seen the place she’d lived with Henry, and even now there are still hints of them around. A simple puzzle on the floor of their bedroom next to another patch of flowers, a stuffed toy covered in dust on the bed. She pulls open a drawer and finds a neatly folded stack of tiny tunics and presses one to her face, not daring to mourn too openly so close to Zelena.

 

“I don’t know how you can forgive her,” Zelena says. She’s staring into the room, brow wrinkled at the sight of Emma with Henry’s old undershirt. “She took everything from you, too.” 

 

“She didn’t know I’d be left behind.” She bites her lip, feeling defensive about the whole matter, and points out, “She didn’t know you would, either.”

 

“Don’t make excuses for her. It makes her sound weak and you like a fool,” Zelena says snidely.

 

“You’re the one who still can’t move on,” Emma says, stung. “And it’s taken over your life. I think that makes you both weak _and_ a fool.”

 

Zelena’s eyes narrow. “You have no idea what I am.” 

 

“And you have no idea what I feel.” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

She feels rather like a schoolgirl during a playground scuffle, a child fighting over irrelevance, and she tries again. “She’s been fighting hard to change.” For a moment, Blue’s words from earlier come to mind, casting a pall over her faith. “I know her. I trust her,” she says, more as reassurance for herself than for Zelena.

 

Zelena laughs, a tinge of bitterness to it. “It’s easy for her. You have no idea what it means to have no one fighting for you.” 

 

“I have a clue, actually.” 

 

“Please,” Zelena retorts. “She’s had you fighting for her all along, whenever she’d allow it. And now she has her son and Snow-“

 

Emma cuts her off, setting the shirt back down and returning to the kitchen as she speaks. “I didn’t mean Regina.”

 

Zelena pauses, studying Emma’s face, and Emma stares back at her evenly. “I see.” 

 

“Yeah, _I see_.” Emma clenches her fists against the table, too many memories returning of being alone, being on her own, even once she’d joined the Merry Men. She’d been a leader and she’d been needed but she’d kept herself- by choice, and not by choice- distant from the others. She’s spent a lifetime fighting, but rarely can she remember a time when she’d been fought for. “So spare me the pity party. No one was fighting for Regina for a long, long time, okay? She learned- I learned- we learn to fight for ourselves. And we all managed. You aren’t different than us except that you’re still trying to lash out instead of searching for something better, and that’s where you’re fucking up.” 

 

Zelena sneers at her and slides Regina's blood into her glass flask, tapping the side of it for a moment before she stands. “Very well.” She turns to the door.

 

Emma battles a surge of panic. “Wait. Where are you going? One comment and you’re taking away the-“ 

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Zelena snaps. “The potion isn’t smoking. I’m checking it outside the cabin.” She pokes the hand holding the flask through the doorway. Immediately, waves of smoke pour from it and the liquid inside the flask begins to swirl and change colors. “Hm.” 

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“That any magic doesn’t work inside this cabin. Which doesn’t make sense.” Zelena steps out of the cabin and waves her hand, setting up a table outside in the clearing. 

 

“My friend had it protected from magic when it was built.” 

 

“No, no, not that.” Zelena waves an impatient hand. “The poppies.” 

 

“Poppies?” 

 

“The flowers on the floor.” Emma peers back inside to eye them. “They’re all over Oz. They grow from poppyseed.” 

 

“The little black dots on bread?” Emma asks, confused.

 

Zelena laughs. “No, true poppyseed. It blooms flowers that contain a powerful hypnosis that can put anyone to sleep. They sprout from…” She waves her hand vaguely. “I suppose here you call it fairy dust.” 

 

“ _Fairy dust_ ,” Emma repeats, staring at the flowers under the table, growing straight from the dirt. “But you said that magic doesn’t…that the potion wouldn’t…it’s impossible.”

 

_That can put anyone to sleep_. She’s turning on her heel and heading to the bedroom again, studying the patch of poppies peeking out from under the bed. Exactly where she’d slept the night of the curse, Henry wrapped in her arms until he…wasn’t. She’d woken up and Lancelot had been asleep at the kitchen table, and to this day neither of them had known how they’d slept through Henry’s kidnapping.

 

“I have to go,” she says, and bolts from the woods toward the main road.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t make it far, not without a horse, but her memories of the woods around her home still serve her well enough to find a quiet place far from Zelena where she can find clear skies and a blue star gleaming down from above. “Blue,” she hisses. “Show your face!” 

 

Blue pops into existence a moment later, head cocked and wand waving. “Ah, Emma. Have you thought about what we discussed?” 

 

“Poppies,” she says in response. Her fists are clenched around her bow, tighter and tighter as she struggles to control the urge to punch the Blue Fairy in the face, and Blue’s eyebrows rise as she takes Emma in. “There are poppies in Jasmine’s cabin.”

 

Blue’s eyebrows settle again, and she smiles, long and unimpressed. “Indeed.” 

 

“How did you get in? Or did you send someone to…to…” 

 

“The Agraban genie came to me for help. I’m the one who protected it from magic in the first place,” Blue says pleasantly. Of course. _Of course._

 

She can’t contain her fury anymore, can’t stop herself from charging forward at Blue and swinging at her. “You took my son!” She catches a flicker of wing and then Blue is gone, vanishing in a puff of sparkled blue and reappearing at the other end of the clearing. Emma aims her bow and whirls around and Blue dodges again, and again, and again until Emma is in the center of the clearing, bent over with her hands against her thighs and her eyes raised to glare up at the gleaming fairy. “You took…my son…” she manages, stumbling forward again.

 

“Of course I did.” Blue’s voice is hard and Emma gapes up at her, surprised at the easy admission. “It was the only way.” 

 

“But…Tink said you couldn’t. That you were _good_.” She spits out the word like the fucking lie that it is, still caught in disbelief. 

 

Blue sniffs. “Green has always had trouble understanding just what true goodness entails. I see a larger picture, one you may never understand. But for the greater good, I will do whatever it takes. And Henry had to cross over into the other realm.” 

 

“You _kidnapped_ my son!” 

 

“He was our only chance! And you selfishly kept him to yourself. Tell me, Emma, how would you have fared frozen in time for an eternity? Did you want to be responsible for an entire kingdom imprisoned in Storybrooke, never to be freed again? For a son never allowed to grow up?” Blue hovers closer and Emma’s hand shoots out, her palm slapping Blue’s side before the fairy flutters away again. 

 

There’s a flash of light and then Blue is standing before her, full-sized, clad in an elaborate dress dotted with flowers. Emma takes a step back and Blue reaches out to grab her hand. “Emma,” she says gently. “I know we haven’t always gotten along. It’s…difficult for you to see what I can.” 

 

Emma’s frozen in place, Blue’s hand on hers, and she can feel those gentle stirrings of fairy-kindness tugging at her heart. “You stole my son,” she repeats yet again, clinging to that awareness. “You took him from me and I’m never going to see him–“ 

 

Blue tosses some fairy dust in the air and it coalesces into an image, Henry leaning back against a couch with David beside him, the two of them eating some sort of orange, triangular dough. Emma freezes in place, the texture of tiny undershirts still seared into her skin.

 

Henry’s talking animatedly, gesturing ahead of them at something Emma can’t see, and David is laughing, shoving him on his shoulder as he responds. Henry gives him a dirty look and snatches his orange triangle, taking a laughing bite out of it as David protests, and Emma suddenly notices that she’s shaking, her arms wrapped around herself as the Blue Fairy pats her back comfortingly. “Oh, Emma,” she sighs. “There are times when I wish we didn’t have such strict guidelines about which children to help.” 

 

Emma remembers to recoil from Blue and the picture vanishes, leaving her hollowed out and empty inside. “What are you talking about,” she croaks.

 

“I saw you as a child, Emma. I hear the wishes of all children. And there was a time when your wishes were loudest of all.” Blue is still in human form and Emma doesn’t know how to be around her, flinching back when she comes too close and feeling so young again, lonely and afraid and needy. “I couldn’t grant them. I saw who you would be, the way your life would shape the thief who fed the hungry, and I couldn’t alter that path.”

 

_You took my son_ , she tries to say, but the fairy-kindness is strong in her veins, calming her each time the fury rises and guiding her back to Blue. “We have clashed in the past,” Blue acknowledges. “But I’ve always had a great deal of respect for you. You can still be great. It’s always been your destiny, Emma.” Her voice softens even more. “It’s only ever been your association with the queen that’s held you back.” 

 

“Like hell,” Emma grits out, resentment overpowering the fairy-kindness’s thrall. “Regina is–“ 

 

“Regina makes you selfish and weak,” Blue says, and now her voice is like steel.

 

“You don’t know what–“ 

 

“Just as you do her.” 

 

Emma stops midway through her sentence, taken aback. “I…what?” 

 

Blue pats her hands again. “Oh, Emma, you must know it. Haven’t you understood why it’s only now that Regina has been able to change? Never because of you. Sometimes all love is is bringing out the worst in each other.” She tilts her head, the cloying goodness overpowering in this volume. “I’ve always been watching, Emma. I saw her driven to new destruction only to get a rise out of you. I saw her a young girl who’d chosen darkness after your rejection of her. How much of who she is is because of you, I wonder? How much of her reform was about your absence from her life?” 

 

Emma stands stock-still, frozen with outrage and denial, and Blue says comfortingly, “Cora’s line has always been destined for great darkness. It isn’t your fault that you’ve been drawn into it. You are so much more than Regina’s lover, Emma. You used to be a hero, don’t you remember? You had the courage to change others’ destiny in ways that even fairies never could. And now…” 

 

Emma finally punches her, hard in the gut when she doesn’t expect it, and Blue squawks in outrage and transforms into fairy form again. “You _stole_ my _son_ ,” Emma snarls, the fairy-kindness overcome at last. “You expect me to stand here and listen to you when you robbed me of the one person in the universe who matters most to me?” She balls her fists and swings again, sideswiping a tiny Blue this time. “And I’m going to–“ 

 

“What? Tell Snow?” Blue smiles thinly, her affection gone in an instant. “Do you think she’ll condemn me for doing what was best? Snow trusts me, as she should. Every person in this kingdom would defend my decision- if they even chose to believe the Evil Queen and her lover.” 

 

She’s _right_ and that burns nearly as much as the uncomfortable idea that Emma and Regina bring out the worst in each other. Emma has only one ally in this, and she’s unconscious and sick and doesn’t need to be roped into this situation right now.

 

“And you know they need me,” Blue murmurs. “More than they’ll ever need you. Would you truly be so selfish as to remove the support of the fairies from your castle under siege?”

 

Emma can’t answer, can’t do anything other than attempting another blow, and she rages silently at her own helplessness here, at how little can actually be done. She’s been so focused in finding proof and catching Blue or her minions, in knowing who’d done it, and she’d never thought about what would happen after. Snow can’t afford to lose the fairies. No one will attack Blue for what they’d all wanted all along. She’s trapped with knowledge and nothing to do with it, not against a force as indomitable as the head fairy.

 

Blue says, “Do think about what I’ve said, child. We can still reach an accord,” and fairy-kindness washes over Emma again as Blue pops out of the clearing in a shower of sparks.

 

Emma sinks to the ground, back against a tree and eyes unseeing. She sits for a long time until she hears the screech of a flying monkey before Zelena rides into the clearing on a broomstick, eyebrows arched at her position. “What have you been doing?” 

 

Emma shrugs and follows her back to the cabin.

 

* * *

 

Now that the cabin as their laboratory is a bust, Zelena moves the potion to the Dark Castle while she works on it, and she conjures up a bed for Emma that Emma refuses to sleep in at first. “You’ll kill me in my sleep.” 

 

“I could kill you right this instant,” Zelena scoffs. She waves her hand and Emma’s air supply to her throat is cut off for a moment. Emma uses the bed.

 

Zelena is careless with her magic, overusing it in a way that Regina never had, and she teleports them across kingdoms and conjures until she’s drained of all power and turning green while she sleeps. In the morning, she’s reenergized and the color is fading again, and she’s back at work at a bubbling purple potion.

 

Emma wants to leave and is afraid to, to return to a castle while her anger toward Blue still burns hot and destructive. She has to go back to Regina, to make sure that she isn’t in too much pain, but Zelena is positive that at this point, she won’t be able to make a difference. “She won’t even be able to feel your touch. Right now, you’ll be of more help here.” 

 

_Help_ means sitting beside Zelena, silently passing her ingredients and stirring whenever she barks out orders. Zelena takes snide satisfaction in being able to order Emma around, and Emma silently forces herself to let it wash over her. Zelena makes grand comments about killing Regina and Emma controls herself until she doesn’t, until a beaker is crashing onto the floor and Emma has Zelena pinned against the wall with a hand around her neck, both of them breathing hard and with furious eyes. “You’re not going to touch her.” 

 

“Do you think you can stop me?” Zelena laughs. Her magic is ebbing for the day and there’s a spot of green on her jaw, spreading outward, and when she’s only human she’s so fragile. Emma can’t help but compare her to her sister, tiny when she isn’t immense, and she takes a step back.

 

“I would stop you,” Emma says, low and dangerous. Zelena laughs again, but there’s a purpling ring of fingerprints around her neck and she touches it uncomfortably. Emma bunches up her fists. “I’m not losing anyone else to that curse.” 

 

“I can make sure you die, too,” Zelena offers magnanimously. Her eyes are glittering like she has a plan and Emma’s nails bite into her palm. “I will cast the curse.” 

 

“You’ll never get Regina’s heart.” 

 

“Oh, but I will.” Zelena flashes her a smirk. “I know her greatest weakness. In this realm, anyway,” she hastens to clarify as Emma takes a threatening step toward her. “Regina will give it to me willingly.” 

 

“Regina doesn’t have any weaknesses here,” Emma shoots back, and Zelena snickers so knowingly that Emma nearly strangles her again.

 

They finish the potion in only two days with their combined effort. “I’m going to teleport you and the potion into Regina’s quarters,” Zelena instructs her. “You’ll have to get her awake enough to drink the first dose. Take it twice a day for a week until it fades, then every time she sees the infection on her skin again until it stops coming. You can put her heart back in after a week.” 

 

Emma startles. “I said…I put her heart in already.” 

 

Zelena rolls her eyes. “And I’m not a fool.”

 

“So you…” Emma stares hard at her. “You knew all along and you _helped_ -“ 

 

Zelena cuts her off, her cheeks tinging red, and snaps, “Three months. That’s how long I’ll give you until the curse. You’d better hope she’s better by then.” Her eyes are narrowed and Emma opens her mouth and, quite suddenly, is right back in Regina’s quarters.

 

There’s a table beside her now, the whole set of the potion atop it, and Kalla and Snow are gaping at her from the other side of Regina’s bed. “Where have you been?” Snow demands. “What…is this a cure?” 

 

Emma ignores her for a moment to carefully ladle out a dose of the potion and pour it into one of Zelena’s designated glasses. “Regina,” she says softly. “Regina, can you wake up for me?” 

 

“She hasn’t woken up in days,” Snow says. “Since you left.” 

 

“Okay.” Emma parts Regina’s lips and spills the liquid into them, stroking her throat until she begins swallowing. “We’ll give her time.” She turns around, looking properly at Snow at last. Snow is wan and tired, dark circles around her eyes and her hands pale over her distended belly. “Have you slept?” 

 

“You disappeared,” Snow says, by way of explanation. “Regina was sick. I had to…” She closes her eyes, looking very tired, and Kalla guides her from the room.

 

Emma thinks, _selfish, Regina makes you selfish and weak. Just as you do her._ Blue’s voice is taunting in her mind, smug without the fairy-kindness to couch it and so intolerably right.

 

Emma sits down in the chair with jerky movements and waits.

 

* * *

 

Regina wakes up in the early morning the next day in the midst of a coughing fit, and Emma springs up from where she’d been slumped over in the bed and helps Regina sit up. She tips the glass of potion into Regina’s mouth and Regina swallows without question, blinking around like she’s fighting for awareness. “Emma.” Her eyes search and settle on Emma, and then she shuts her eyes again.

 

She doesn’t fully awaken until Emma pushes her heart into her body a week later, and then it’s with a groan and a jerk and tears spilling from her eyes. She breathes in, long and cleansing, and she turns to find Emma. “I feel…better,” she says. Her voice is richer now, her eyes glowing, and Emma doesn’t know if it’s the heart or the potion that has revived her but she’s relieved either way.

 

“How long has it been?” Regina has already given up on sitting well, and soon she’s half propped up by pillows and curled up on her side. “What did I miss?” 

 

Emma thinks of Zelena’s neck with her fingerprints on it, of crawling through the castle stores, of sleepless nights in the Dark One’s castle. Emma thinks of  _you took my son_ and _I saw you as a child_ and _every person in the kingdom would defend my decision._

 

Emma thinks of Henry on a couch, laughing with David, and _sometimes all love is is bringing out the worst in each other_ and Emma can’t tell Regina the truth about Henry, not when she’d lose herself and her progress in vengeance again for it. Not when she has the future to worry about and the past can only hurt them, not the ones who deserve it. (Are they the ones who deserve it?)

 

“Nothing,” Emma says, and when Regina curls her fingers around Emma’s, she keeps her hand steady and still, rigid in Regina’s soft grasp.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“We have one month left,” Snow says from across the table. She sounds dazed and distracted, same as she’s been for the past month, and Emma tries to convey something reassuring with her eyes. “Zelena is going to cast this curse in one month. And I’m having a baby in two.”  

 

“No one is touching your baby or you. If I couldn’t manage killing you, no one else can.” Regina is sitting between Snow and Lancelot, the latter of whom is keeping a careful eye on her. Emma had found him the day that Regina had deemed herself capable of getting out of bed and told him everything, that they hadn’t failed Henry, that Blue had put them to sleep and led her son out the door. _You can’t tell Regina,_ she’d said. _We can’t afford to make enemies out of the fairies._

 

Instead, he’s been Regina’s constant companion as Emma keeps her distance, both of them with wary eyes on Blue even right now as she hovers near Gepetto and Jiminy and smiles enigmatically at Emma. 

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Snow says dryly, but she sounds almost like she means it. 

 

“There’s still that potion,” Grumpy puts in. “Why can’t we try that again?” 

 

“No!” Emma and Snow say together. “Absolutely not,” Snow repeats, her eyes flickering to Regina. Regina murmurs something and Snow nods as the room falls silent.

 

“She has a cure for it,” Regina points out. “This is the real world. You can’t just splash some water on the Wicked Witch and expect her to melt.” 

 

Grumpy scowls. “Yeah? Way I see it, you were out of commission for over a week, and that was with someone else making you an antidote. How much time will we buy if she’s out? Enough to stab her in the throat.” There are a few nods around the room, and Regina’s jaw tightens. 

 

Blue says regretfully, “I have no way of obtaining another dose.”

 

“Okay, so here’s idea number two.” Grumpy sits forward, hands clasped over the table. “We do nothing.” 

 

Snow frowns. “What?” 

 

“Indoor plumbing? Electricity? Running water? Television?” Grumpy shrugs. “All I’m saying is, we didn’t have it too bad in Storybrooke. So what if the witch sends us back there?” 

 

“At the cost of Regina’s heart?” Emma demands, unable to restrain herself.

 

“That’s a price I’m willing to pay,” Grumpy says. “You two are on the outs now anyway, right? What do you care? What do any of us care about the Evil Queen?” 

 

“Leroy!” Snow barks out, and he falls silent, glowering at the table. Emma sneaks a glance around the table. Mulan is shaking her head, Lancelot’s eyes are narrowed, and Jiminy Cricket is already objecting in quiet tones, but even Red looks torn at the suggestion. Regina sits silently, rolling her eyes and ignoring the discussion over her life with determined composure. She catches Emma’s eye and Emma licks her lips and tries for a smile. Regina’s brow furrows.

 

“It’s of no use.” It’s Blue who speaks now, and Emma swivels back around to stare at her in surprise. “Allowing the witch to cast the curse would allow her to decide how we come out of it. We might not retain our memories or our positions within Storybrooke. Are you willing to give her that kind of power?” 

 

She smiles at the room, this time pausing an extra moment on Emma, and Emma nods slowly. She doesn’t know what game they’re playing. She's  _terrible_ at these games, at pretending and layers over layers of unspoken messages. Playing along mostly means reacting to Blue like she knows what’s going on and keeping herself from hurling the fairy into the fireplace behind Snow.

 

Lancelot speaks up. “Our best option is to find out whatever Cora did to preserve the land around us from the curse,” he says. “And if it would also freeze us in time, or if that’s something we can avoid.”

 

“I can look into that,” Regina agrees. Then, a flicker of hesitation, and, “Lady Swan, I’ll need your help. You were there when she cast her curse,” she says by way of explanation. Grumpy grunts something less than complimentary under his breath. 

 

Emma gives him a dirty look and says, “Yeah, I guess so.” She hasn’t been alone with Regina since that first week when she’d been healing, and she’s successfully avoided all conversation since. 

 

It isn’t as though they’re at odds now. They _aren’t._ Emma refuses to allow Blue to dictate her insecurities and manipulate her so easily. She believes in Regina. She believes that she’s changed. 

 

Believing in herself- in their ability to make something _good_ instead of another twisted disaster like the years before the curse- that’s another matter entirely.

 

* * *

 

Lancelot bows out of their mission later that week even when Emma glares extra hard at him. “I have other matters to tend to in this land,” he insists, and Emma reminds herself _selfish, selfish, Regina makes you selfish_ and nods abruptly. 

 

She and Regina ride in silence to the cabin, the tension thick between them. It’s Emma’s fault. Emma knows it. Emma’s the one who’s been avoiding Regina, the one who smiles quickly and makes excuses to escape, the one who’d started all this with no explanation for Regina at all. She doesn’t know how to handle any of these new fears about their relationship except to avoid, to run, to shut out Regina entirely, and Regina has responded with the same distance.

 

Not speaking to Regina is a certain kind of agony after all this time. Emma had started treasuring their contact when she’d been seventeen, fleeting moments of _Lady Swan_ and the queen she’d fallen hopelessly in love with. And somehow she’s never quite escaped the wonder of those early moments, the disbelief that Regina’s _here_ and she can see her every day, talk to her as often as she’d like, and now-

 

Now she’s tearing herself away from what she craves most, punishing both of them for something that she doesn’t dare tell Regina about. Not about Blue, not when that would risk a war they can’t afford right now. And not how _wrong_ they are together, because Regina will scoff and Emma will crumble. 

 

Blue’s in her head now, had slipped in as easily as she’d cooed _Emma_ with a touch of fairy-kindness. Emma can’t help but see everything through the lens of an outsider now, see how many times she’d abandoned what was right for Regina. She’d forget the world for Regina, and while she can excuse it away when it’s Henry they’re protecting, she can’t do the same when it’s all about her own selfish needs.

 

And so she’s a few feet away from Regina after nearly watching her die a month ago, and she still can’t bring herself to say a word.

 

Regina doesn’t look at her. It’s a relief, because Emma doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle this silence if she did. “This way,” she croaks out when they’re close to the spot where she’d found Cora, and Regina nods sharply and follows her.

 

“I…This was where I ran to when Henry–“ She catches herself, unwilling to bring up that mystery again. Regina hasn’t mentioned their hunt for Henry’s kidnapper since she’d awoken, and Emma is relieved. “I came here and Cora had a staff out on the ground and there was a dome above us.” 

 

“Hn.” Regina is sniffing the air, her eyes closed, and she walks into the clearing and drops to her knees. “Right here. The staff was here?” She touches the ground and magic erupts from it, shining so bright that Emma can’t make out a color to it, and Regina is thrown back from it as it shoots out like a geyser. 

 

Emma races to her and Regina shrugs her off as she rises. “Your assistance is neither wanted nor needed, Lady Swan,” she says coolly, and Emma flinches back.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” comes an inquiring voice from behind them. Zelena swoops in, riding a broomstick like the cliche she is, and Emma stiffens. “I was so rooting for you crazy kids,” she drawls. “Hi, Sis.” 

 

“Zelena.” Regina straightens, taking a careful step in front of Emma as Zelena dismounts. Emma cocks her bow. “I suppose I owe you a thank you.” 

 

Zelena wrinkles her nose. “Don’t bother. My interest is in your heart, not you.” She takes a step forward, laying her palm against the left side of Regina’s chest, right over her heart. “You’re healing well,” she breathes.

 

Emma takes a step forward, temporarily stymied at the inappropriateness of the moment. Zelena says, “Whatever you’ve found here won’t help you. After all, you’ll need a fully capable witch to stop the curse. And I’ll have your heart.” 

 

Regina puts a hand on Zelena’s wrist and Zelena lets go of her immediately. “What makes you think you’ll ever get anywhere near my heart?” Regina scoffs. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.” 

 

“Oh, I know.” Zelena grins at both of them. “Thing is, I have a bit of leverage that’ll change your tune soon enough. You’ll be handing over your heart willingly in thirty days’ time, make no mistake of it.” Emma’s brow furrows and Regina opens her mouth, but Zelena cuts her off with “Ta-ta, ladies,” and is off again.

 

Regina hisses out a curse. “What is she playing at?” 

 

Emma remembers Zelena just as sure before, insistent that she has Regina’s greatest weakness in her grasp. _In this realm, anyway._ She freezes. Unless…

 

Regina has only one weakness. And Zelena’s been playing with her all along. Blue had shown her an image but Emma trusts Blue not at all, especially when Blue has been _defending_ Regina to the council. This is all careful maneuvering, and the pieces are slotting into place. “She has Henry,” Emma breathes the inevitable conclusion in horror. 

 

“No.” Regina is spinning around, the self-made distance between them lost for an instant. “Emma, no. He’s safe. He’s in another realm. He’s _safe_ ,” she says urgently, her hands on Emma’s arms. They burn and Emma has no time to focus on that, not with the rising panic for Henry. “She can’t have him.” 

 

“Who else could she have?” Emma says hopelessly. “Is there anyone else out there who she could use as leverage?” 

 

Regina gives her a disbelieving stare before her eyes shutter and she’s pulling away, the two of them standing stiffly with a few feet between them. “No,” Regina says. “No, there isn’t.” 

 

* * *

 

They use one of Henry’s old undershirts for a tracking spell, gathered around in Regina’s quarters with Snow and Mulan and Lancelot hovering. Lancelot has a hand on Regina’s back that she doesn’t shove aside and Mulan is pacing the room, and Snow is shiny-eyed and worried as they wait for Regina to finish the spell. 

 

The spell springs to life, a glowing purple sphere that jumps and hovers near the door, and Regina heaves a gasping sob. “It worked,” she says dully. “It’s going to lead us to Henry.” 

 

“He’s really here?” Snow whispers.

 

Regina shakes her head hopelessly. “It wouldn’t have worked if he weren’t. He’s…we could see him again.” She looks up, fire in her eyes, and catches Emma’s gaze with so much fierce assurance in place of tension that Emma is helpless beneath it. “ _You_ are going to see him again,” she says like a promise, and Emma feels the tears escaping before she can stop them. 

 

Snow kisses her cheek and holds Regina’s hand and says, “Let’s get a carriage ready.” 

 

* * *

 

Snow insists on going and all four of them have to talk her out of it, to remind her of her own child and the dangers ahead of them. And then the latter four of them are squeezed into an open carriage, Emma taking the driver’s seat as the purple sphere hovers in front of her. It moves and the horses follow.

 

They ride toward the east for days, but it’s a different path than the one to the Dark Castle, and Emma bites back her fears to focus on moving forward. “Is it really possible that she could jump realms so easily without the curse?” Mulan wants to know.

 

“Of course.” Regina sounds tired and crabby, worn out already, and Emma glances back to see her downing a dose of the antidote. Maintaining the tracking spell is taking all of her strength, sucking out enough magic to make her more vulnerable to her infection than usual. “Zelena wants to cast the curse to bring herself and all of us to Storybrooke on her own terms, and she wants to use my heart to do it. That doesn’t preclude other options in the meantime.”

 

Mulan frowns. “And why would she go to all this trouble to hide him elsewhere? Why not keep him in the Dark Castle and keep quiet about–“

 

“Why don’t you keep quiet, you imbecile?” Regina snarls, and it’s nasty enough that Emma snaps, “Regina!” and twists around again. 

 

Regina doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Her hackles are raised and her teeth are nearly bared and she’s glaring furiously at all of them like a cornered wildcat. “I am here to find my son. I’m not going to make small talk with some _fool_ who-“ 

 

“Who’s trying to _help_ ,” Lancelot cuts in, and Emma is glaring and Lancelot looks gravely disappointed and Mulan is leaning back against the seat, her knuckles tight against her sword. Regina falls into dark silence, glowering at all of them, and Emma says, “I’m done driving.” 

 

Lancelot takes her spot and Emma sits with Mulan, eyes fixed on her friend so she doesn’t have to look at Regina opposite her. “I’m sorry she’s an ass,” she says, ignoring Regina’s snort in response.

 

“You're concerned for your son,” Mulan allows, shifting to face Regina. Regina stares out the opposite window. “I’m sure I’d be…similar in the same setting.” 

 

Emma’s unwilling to give Regina leeway right now, and she feels tense and guilty about that. “I doubt it. _I’m_ in the same setting and I–”

 

“I can never see Henry again,” Regina says. They blink at her. She says stiffly, “That was the price of the curse. For as long as we’re here, I had to say goodbye to the one I love most. So forgive me if I’m not playing along as a noble warrior on this heroic journey.” She stomps over the little stairs to the driver’s seat and sits down beside Lancelot, seizing the reins from him.

 

Emma watches the back of her head, stiff and unyielding, and doesn’t know if she’s angry or tired, either. “I didn’t know-“ 

 

“Can it, Lady Swan.”

 

She’s been in a state of terror and anticipation all day, waiting to see Henry and to know him at last, because Zelena has brought him to her and put him in danger. She’s been worried and she’s been tense but she’d never thought that Regina had had other concerns with Henry than she. 

 

She sits silently in the carriage, her back to Regina’s back and her eyes fixed on grassland that is beginning to turn to desert, and she says nothing at all when Lancelot and Mulan switch places.

 

“You can’t drive like this,” Mulan says in a low voice to Regina. “The horses are getting exhausted and your infection-“

 

“Why are you still here?” Regina demands. “Weren’t you busy crying to Emma? Are you trying to provoke me?” 

 

Emma opens her mouth and Lancelot shakes his head at her. She scowls. Mulan says evenly, “You aren’t the first prissy royal I’ve dealt with.” 

 

Emma chokes back a startled laugh. Regina says, slowly and dangerously, “ _Prissy_.”

 

Mulan shrugs. “I’ve spent…what, six months with you now? Seven? You can’t intimidate me.” 

 

Lancelot whistles. Regina stutters for a moment and then, her voice low and smooth like velvet, “I could set you on fire for your insolence.” 

 

Emma grabs her bow. Lancelot grabs her wrist. “Mulan can handle herself,” he murmurs. “Patience.” 

 

Mulan is silent though, and Emma is raising her bow, no idea what she’s going to do with it, when Regina says grudgingly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’ve been…on edge, I suppose.”

 

“Your son will be proud of you,” Mulan says. “No matter what happens next. I imagine it’ll be painful, but he’ll see what good you’ve done and he’ll be proud.” She nods toward Emma and Lancelot. “We’re all far from home, Regina. Lancelot can never return. I don’t think there’s a future for me in my own. Emma lost her family for ten years. If we can find your home- if your son is somewhere out there- embrace that.”

 

“I do.” Regina’s voice is rough. “I will. I know. Thank you.”

 

_Emma lost her family_ , Mulan says like it’s that simple, and Emma had thought first of Regina and Henry. She can feel the guilt bubbling up again, that she’s the one who’s put Regina in a bad mood to begin with, that all this is because of her, and it feels like a never-ending cycle of misery. No matter what she does, they’re only going to hurt each other.

 

* * *

 

On the third night, they set up camp and Emma wanders off on her own, kicks through sand and dirt and turns back to the glowing light of the tracking spell only once dawn breaks. She's surprised when she returns and Regina is awake, huddled in front of a fire with Emma’s cloak wrapped around her.

 

“Oh,” Emma says, in a strangled sort of voice. “I didn’t realize you’d be up.” 

 

“Did you think I’d sleep?” Regina gathers the cloak tighter around her and Emma shivers at the hot bolt of need that shoots through her at the sight. _Not now. Not ever_. 

 

Emma sits down next to her, her mind cleared blissfully blank of doubts with the image before her. She catches herself a moment too late, when she’s already begun to speak. “You didn’t tell me you wouldn’t be able to see him.” 

 

“That would involve you not scampering like a scared rodent every time you saw me,” Regina retorts, but she closes her eyes and admits, “I don’t know if I won’t. I have no idea what kind of consequences there would be for me.”

 

“You shouldn’t have come on this trip. Mulan has that sword that cancels out magic and you’re just going to-“ 

 

“I’m not going to endanger anyone,” Regina says swiftly. “I swear, I’ll make sure of that.” 

 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Emma whispers. “I think…you’re just going to hurt yourself.” She aches for Regina, for whom happy endings slip away as easily as they come. Emma doesn’t quite believe in happy endings as much as the day-to-day drudgery of trying hard and fighting well, but Regina _believes_ , longs for happiness as a tangible thing. And now it’s flitting out of her grasp again.

 

Regina shakes her head. “I’m not doing this for me.” When she turns to face Emma, it’s with the same heart-stopping fierceness from the castle, _You are going to see him again_ , and Emma swallows her questions and listens. “I know you’ll never forgive me,” Regina says, and Emma’s brow furrows. “I know that you have every right to keep your distance. But I will find Henry, and I will make sure that you two are together if it is the last thing I do.” 

 

Emma breathes, horrified. “Regina,” she begins, and hesitates under the heat of Regina’s firm stare. Regina thinks that Emma’s been staying away out of _anger_ , out of grudges and resentment and something that she’d done. “I’m not…I don’t…I…” _I forgive you_ , she tries to say, and it sticks in her throat. “I want you to see him, too,” she finally settles on. “We’ll make it work.” 

 

“Emma,” Regina sighs, and she shifts forward as Emma does the same on automatic. The fire is crackling in front of them and the night is cool and peaceful and Regina is wearing her cloak, and it’s all setting an impossible mood. Emma’s hand lingers on Regina’s thigh and she leans closer, their lips barely brushing–

 

_Haven’t you understood why it’s only now that Regina has been able to change? Never because of you._

 

–Emma pulls away. “Goodnight, Regina,” she whispers, and Regina’s left staring at her as she scurries over to the closest sleeping pad and settles in beside Lancelot's.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, they’re back to avoiding each other. Regina is snippy and bashful at once, biting back insults and flushing whenever anyone looks at her, and she plants herself in the driver’s seat and stares grimly at the purple sphere in front of them. Emma winds up driving most of the afternoon and Regina doesn’t move from the spot beside her, and they sit in awkward silence together for the bulk of the ride under the hot sun.

 

“Where the hell is Zelena hiding him?” Regina demands finally, folding her arms together and letting out an irritated huff. “She can’t travel this kind of distance without wearing herself out. There’s no need to have him so far from…” She grits her teeth.

 

Emma recognizes this area. She’s never been here but she knows what land is at the center of this desert, alive and gleaming in the distance. Something niggles at the back of her mind and she shoves it aside, refusing to accept it. “On the plus side, there’s no way she can take us once we get there.” 

 

“Get… _where_ , exactly?”

 

“Agrabah. That’s where she has him.” Emma sits up straighter, urging the horses faster. “Aziz and Al were here just before your second curse and they left back for home. I wonder if Zelena had been using them all along. Or if they’d ever been Al and Aziz.” She’d know if Al wasn’t Al, but Aziz had been a stranger to her as much as Zelena, and if Zelena had bewitched him- if she’d bewitched both of them-

 

She inhales tightly and thinks about Blue’s declaration that she’d been the one to cast the protection spell around the cabin on Jasmine’s behalf. She’d trusted all of them, _lived_ with them, and she can’t believe that they’d betray her like that of their own volition. And she has no idea who is friend and who is foe anymore. 

 

Regina is neither, exactly, and Emma says, eyes fixed on the road and voice hard and determined, “We’re going to save our son.”

 

To her surprise, Regina laughs. Emma looks askance at her. “I could have used you in Neverland, Lady Swan,” is all she says, and her words draw Emma nearer even as they gently push her back an instant later.

 

They reach Agrabah when night is falling and it’s beginning to cool, and Mulan and Lancelot are suiting up into their armor as they ride into the marketplace. It’s crowded even at night and they’re stuck on the road twice before they grudgingly stable their horses and carriage and set out on foot behind their purple beacon.

 

It leads them to the palace and hovers as they all stand together, Mulan at the front of the group with her hands twitching around her sword and Regina hovering warily in the back. “We’re friends of the Sultana and her consort,” Emma ventures. The guards eye her, unimpressed. “My name is-“ 

 

Regina stalks forward and there’s a heart in her hand before anyone can stop her. “ _Regina!_ ” Emma manages. 

 

“You said it yourself. We can’t trust that your friends are really your friends. This is quicker. Let us in,” she orders the heart. The second guard charges forward and Mulan slaps him away with her sword, holding the tip of it to his neck. Emma sighs and draws her bow at a third while Lancelot takes the fourth.

 

The first guard opens the door and steps back, his eyes blank until Regina shoves the heart back in and stalks past him. He stares dumbly at them. Regina gives him a dark look. He looks down.

 

“Terrible security,” Mulan comments.

 

“Atrocious,” Emma agrees. She smiles winningly at a guard who comes running at them, sees a fireball appear in Regina’s hand, and runs off again. “You’d think they’d never seen a couple of Merry Men before.” She pokes at the purple orb and it jumps forward a few more feet, slowing down as it moves and then–

 

–Pops right out of existence at the far end of the room.

 

Aziz frowns down at his chest, still glowing lightly purple. “What was…Hey! Lancelot! Emma!” He runs toward both of them, climbing halfway up Lancelot’s body before Lancelot wraps him in a hug, and Emma can only gape at the purple light on his chest.

 

“Regina,” she says.

 

Regina doesn’t answer. Emma turns and her eyes are wide with devastation, enough to suffocate them both, and Emma forgets for a long moment to breathe. “Regina,” she chokes out again.

 

“Henry and Aziz shared clothing,” Regina says with muted comprehension. “Didn’t they?” 

 

They _had,_ Aziz a year younger but shooting up like a twig as Henry had remained tiny. But the undershirt they’d used for the tracking spell had been Henry’s, one of the ones she’d purchased in town when she’d still been with Snow’s council. Aziz’s clothing had never been so cheaply made. “It was Henry’s–“ 

 

“Henry isn’t in this realm,” Regina says. Her hands are clasped together, pressed hard enough against each other that they’re shaking. “The tracking spell defaulted to Aziz. Henry isn’t in this realm.” 

 

It should be a good thing. Zelena doesn’t have their son. Whatever leverage she claims to have is a _lie_ , Regina’s heart is protected and Henry is safe and _oh, god,_ she wants desperately to cry right now. They’d almost had Henry again. They’d almost…

 

Jasmine arrives behind Aziz and Emma is frozen in place, unable to tear her eyes off of Regina. Regina is still shaking, her eyes wet as she struggles to stand tall. “Emma,” Jasmine says, her voice low. “What’s going on?”

 

“Just…thought I’d drop by,” Emma offers weakly, and a strangled sob emerges from her throat.

 

* * *

 

They’re each given their own rooms in the palace but Regina doesn’t make it to hers. She’s curled up in a seat in Emma’s and Emma is huddled on the bed, wrapped in too many blankets and warm and freezing at once. “We’ll stay here for a few days,” she offers. “Maybe a week or two. Jasmine and Al don’t mind at all and the further your heart is from Zelena, the better.” 

 

Regina nods dully. The light is gone from her eyes again, as aching as she’d been when she’d first returned to this land. Emma’s always been better at containing her grief, lashing out until there’s nothing to do but freeze up and refuse to process, but Regina feels every misstep with her whole heart and they tear gaping wounds into her. “We have to go back soon. Zelena’s curse–“ 

 

“Needs your heart.” Emma considers. “We can’t stay here until then and risk Agrabah for us, but we still have a few weeks. And Zelena was bluffing about her leverage.” 

 

“Lady Swan–” Regina starts, and something cracks within Emma at last.

 

“Emma,” she says, straightening. “Stop this passive-aggessive bullshit already and call me my _name._ ”

 

Regina laughs, high and disbelieving. “Oh, I’m sorry. _My_ passive-aggressive bullshit? Have you seen _you?_ ” Her eyes flash with life again. They always do better at sorrow when they can be mad instead. “I understand that you’re angry with me. Really, I do. I cast a curse- _to take my son back_ -“ she nearly spits out, and Emma recoils, Blue’s words bright in her mind.

 

“You cast the curse because you couldn’t kill Snow in this realm,” she accuses instead. “Don’t make this my fault.” 

 

Regina’s lip curls. “I did it for a multitude of reasons. And I don’t regret it. I can’t regret any of the choices I made that led me to my son.” She breathes and Emma thinks, _that’s what I am. A choice that led her to Henry_. But then Regina corrects herself, quick and soft again, “Our son. And I do regret that you lost him in the process. I never wanted you to be without him.”

 

“Didn’t you?” Emma sucks in a breath, not ready to back down yet. “What were you going to do with me during the curse?”

 

Regina shifts in her seat. “You don’t want to know that.”

 

Another non-answer. “Okay. Fine.” Emma grits her teeth and counts to ten in her mind before she speaks again. “It’s not that I’m angry with you. I’m…not. I’m really not. I don’t know if I can ever…You said that you thought I hadn’t forgiven you.” She bites her lip. “But that’s not it. I don’t want you to call me _Lady Swan_ and pretend that we aren’t…friends.” 

 

“Friends,” Regina repeats. “You thought we were friends.” 

 

Emma hears it for the challenge it is. No one thinks they’re _friends_. “No,” she says evenly. “I thought we were in love.” Regina shivers and Emma squeezes fists into her blankets. “But it’s been…Regina, love shouldn’t be this painful. Our love shouldn’t be the two of us trying to _kill_ each other. Our love shouldn’t make us both…selfish and wrong.” 

 

“I make you selfish and wrong,” Regina repeats. She starts out low, like she’s about to start a fight, and then fades into a whisper. “Is that what you think?” 

 

“No. I don’t know.” Emma stares down at the intricate patterns on her blanket. “I just know we’re not good for each other like this. When we’re together, I think...we've always been our worst selves, haven't we?”  

 

She adds hastily to Regina’s flashing eyes, “And that isn’t your fault. Maybe it’s not my fault that you never even considered giving up on the whole evil thing when I was around. But we’ve never done anything _good_ for each other. God, Regina, no relationship that ends with one of us casting a curse to erase an entire realm is good!” Regina blinks at her, some comprehension dawning in her eyes, and Emma goes on, heartened by it. “So yeah, I’ve been keeping my distance, because every time I see you I want to…I don’t know, _love_  you, and…”

 

“And you’re a coward,” Regina says, biting deep enough to scar. “Of all the less-than-complimentary things I’ve thought of you over the years, I’d never imagined you were a coward.” 

 

“I’m trying to do the right thing.” She wants to cry now with frustration, with a thousand voices in her head sounding like Blue _(You are doing the right thing, Be strong, I saw you as a child_ ) and like Snow _(She loves you, you can’t imagine yourself coming first for anyone)_ and like Regina’s scathing words. “I’m trying to fix us.”

 

“Who took your courage from you and replaced it with this drivel?” Regina stands up at last, smiling with unsteady malice at Emma as she approaches. “When did Swan Hood become so easily swayed?” 

 

“We make each other weak,” Emma snaps back, irritated at Regina’s condescension. “We tore each other down and we became casualties of our own relationship, don’t you remember?” 

 

“Love is weakness.” Regina says it like an echo and laughs, mocking and cold. She looks nearly like a queen in this moment, the one who’d destroyed worlds in the name of her one true love. “I remember that.”

 

Emma can nearly see the way Regina shuts her out in an instant, arms folded in front of her and her presence shifting to consume all the energy in the room with contemptuous rage. “I thought we could try maybe being friends,” Emma says meekly.

 

“Get out,” Regina orders in furious disbelief, and Emma slides off the bed and leaves her room.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, mostly just to draw out some of the conflict from last time. Things will be moving from here on out- there is one chapter left to Part III (heartlines is comprised of parts iii and iv so that makes no difference to you) and then I'll do a brief interlude (a flashback to Snow's birth! featuring several tiny children you may recognize and some weird sexual tension between Eva and Cora, probably) and then take a break to iron out the details of the fourth and final part of this. ANYWAY. Here we go~
> 
> Brief trigger warning for some baby complications, all v vague.

They linger in Agrabah for nearly a week; partially as a welcome respite from the tension back home, partially because no one’s been willing to approach Regina after that first day. Mulan sends Emma reproving glares masked as dispassionate disagreement when she avoids tracking her down, and Lancelot is only slightly more understanding. “Whatever you started, you don’t have much time to work it out. Is this really how you want the world to end?” 

 

He pats her on the shoulder and she grumbles, “Who says I started anything?” Mulan and Lancelot both smirk, unconvinced, and she stomps back toward the gardens to find Al.

 

Regina, meanwhile, has been standoffish and cool toward anyone who dares speak with her, and Emma most of all. “I have _nothing_ to say to you,” she hisses once, whirling away, and Emma can’t…clarify, or apologize, or yell some more…or whatever the hell she wants to do. 

 

Which she should really figure out sometime.

 

The only people Regina has made an exception for are Jasmine- who actually seems to _like_ her, just as Emma had once assured Jasmine she would, even when Regina walks around draped in layers of rage and resentment- and Aziz, who’s taken to her with all the energy of a boy who knows a mother when he sees one.

 

On their last day in Agrabah, Emma finds Regina sitting crosslegged opposite Aziz on the rug in his room, concentrating hard on a scorpion that walks between them. Aziz is lying on his side, fascinated by the creature, and Regina has it walking along the patterned center of the rug. “I bet Genie couldn’t handle that,” he gloats.

 

Regina cocks her head. “You’d be surprised just what a genie can do.” A secret smile is playing at the edge of her lips, one that stiffens into a grimace when Emma clears her throat. “What now, Swan?” 

 

“We’re heading out in an hour. I thought you might want to pack.” She manages a smile for Aziz, who scowls at the announcement. 

 

“So soon?” 

 

Regina softens at his consternation. “Our kingdom is in grave danger. We have friends back at home to protect,” she says gently. “If we succeed, we may be back again someday.” 

 

“Maybe with Henry,” Aziz offers, bobbing his head with tentative hope. “I know you’ll see him again soon.” 

 

Regina shakes her head, but she kisses him lightly on the forehead as they rise and he wraps his arms around Emma. “Maybe someday,” she promises him, and for a moment, she can catch Regina’s eye and see the same pain and longing mirrored in her gaze. No, there won’t be a _someday_ , not for them and Henry.

 

* * *

 

The trip back is agony, tension settled upon their carriage and dragging them all down. It’s a relief when they’re closer to the familiar trees and castles of home and Emma has _something_ to look at other than the side of Regina’s face, stiff and weighted with still-simmering fury, and even more a relief when they pull in front of the castle at last and are greeted by Red. “Emma! Regina,” she says, breathless. “The sentries said they saw you.” 

 

“What’s going on?” Red is wild-eyed and fearful and Emma leans forward, whatever glower she might’ve had on her face gone. “What happened?” 

 

Red shakes her head, her eyes clouding up with worry. “It’s Snow. They say she might be losing the baby.” 

 

They’re running upstairs as one, the two of them stumbling with legs unused to moving as they wind around the staircase and down the hall to Regina’s quarters. Snow is in her bed, head tilted back and tears slipping down her cheeks, and Emma shoves past Regina to take her hand. “I’m here.” 

 

“ _I’m_ here,” Regina says sharply, circling the bed to take her other hand, and Snow blinks up at them through reddened eyes.

 

“Kalla hasn’t come yet. This could be labor, if labor was so…Oh!” She doubles over, coughing and coughing until blood splatters over Regina’s dress.

 

Regina doesn’t budge. Instead, her hand trails across Snow’s abdomen and she closes her eyes, struggling to sense something beneath the surface. “I can ease your pain,” she offers. “Once Kalla is here…” 

 

“Thank you.” Snow wrenches her hand free from Emma’s to hold onto Regina with both of hers, and Emma stands awkwardly on the other side of the bed, not sure what to do with her hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t… _Regina_ , you promised me.” Her voice has a hint of a whine in it, plaintive like she’s only a child begging for her stepmother’s help.

 

And Regina must hear it too, if only from the way there’s sudden discomfort on her face that she wipes cleanly off as she sits down beside Snow. “I meant it,” she says darkly. “You will make it through this. Your baby will…” Her voice trails off and Snow lets out an agonized whimper. 

 

“I know your baby is going to be fine,” Emma lies, and Snow looks back at her with sudden hope. Emma deflates guiltily.

 

Regina agrees with _that_ reaction, if the dark look on her face is any indicator, and she grabs Emma’s hand and yanks her into the corner. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

 

“Giving her hope,” Emma hisses. “She’s Snow White. She _exists_ on hope. And you’re a fucking storm cloud right now, so if you’re going to terrify her into losing that–” 

 

Regina’s eyes flash. “Oh, do _not_ make this about _us_ right now.”

 

“I wouldn’t if you weren’t being _so_ …” Emma makes a frustrated noise and wheels around, catching sight of Snow in her bed with her eyes fixed on them. She’s groaning with pain but her face is even paler and she’s croaking their names nearly soundlessly. Emma hurries back to her and nearly slams into Kalla as she enters.

 

“No,” Kalla says immediately, glaring at both of them. They shrink back, shamefaced. “One or both of you is leaving this room right now. I won’t have any disruptions while Snow is struggling.” 

 

Regina glares at Emma. Emma glares at Regina. Snow whispers, “Why does it hurt so much?” and lets out a long, agonized moan. 

 

Regina is hovering over her in an instant, her hand pressed to the top of Snow’s stomach as Kalla begins to inspect the rest of it, and Emma sags and backs out of the room, dismissed by default.

 

She hangs around in the doorway until Kalla gives her another warning glare. Snow is still getting pains and Regina is filtering them through as best as she can, and Emma swings around to the back of the room, remembering an old secret passage that leads from Snow’s room to the kitchens below. 

 

It’s locked now, but Emma can still peer into the room and check in on Snow silently without _disrupting_ the women with her. Regina _has_ calmed in her absence, her eyes fixed on Snow, and when Kalla announces, “Baby’s heartbeat is still steady. A bit faster than it should be, but I’m guessing that’s just because you’re in distress,” Emma exhales, leaning against the door in the wall as Snow cries with relief.

 

Kalla cleans up and gives Snow some herbs to help her heal, promising to return soon with something else for the pain. “No stress,” she warns Regina, and Regina glowers and says nothing. 

 

Snow murmurs, “No, tell me. I need…I need to think about something else. What happened with you and Emma? I thought you were finally getting along again.” 

 

Emma slinks back, uncomfortable at spying on this, when Regina sighs, sounding more drained than furious, “So did I.”

 

“ _Emma_ called it off?” Snow is gaping up at Regina in surprise. “But she loves you.” 

 

“She told me that I make her her worst self. So apparently not.” Regina stares studiously at Snow’s abdomen, her magic still working as it fluctuates against Snow’s skin.

 

Emma longs to say something, to make her presence known and explain what’s all muddled up in her head, fears and guilt and frustration, but all she can do is watch as Snow shakes her head, disbelieving. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Do you think I do?” Regina’s voice is even, tempered to be soothing without giving anything away. Emma is glued to the door. “I’ve spent… _so much_ of my life respecting Emma for being…brash and stupidly stubborn and so impulsive and _brave_. And now she’s lost all of that and I don’t know why or how this happened but I’m not going to sit by and let it twist what we had into…into…” She clenches her jaw and Emma shuts her eyes, unwilling to see her face anymore.

 

And then Snow says, soft but firm, “If it isn’t true.” Regina makes a strangled, threatening sound. “If it isn’t true,” Snow repeats, “Why do you think that Emma would believe it?”

 

Regina is silent. Emma stays still with gripped indecision. Finally, Regina says, “I don’t know,” and it sounds so small and uncertain that Emma aches for her. “Henry–“

 

“Not Henry,” Snow says with fond exasperation. “You both have to stop pretending that every issue can be traced back to Henry, no matter how easy a scapegoat that can be.” 

 

Regina huffs. “Then what, O Wise Snow? What the hell do you know that I don’t?” 

 

Snow shrugs, pain clearing from her face at the movement. “Don’t you know it too? Tell me, how _do_ you see Emma?” 

 

Regina opens her mouth, eyes dark and unamused, and Emma flees down the steps to the kitchen before she can hear another word.

 

* * *

 

Whatever Snow had said to Regina, it changes nothing, and they’re both snarling at each other over the war council just days before the curse is due to arrive. Snow sends them outside to take a breather and Emma glares at Regina’s apple tree, fantasizing about taking a sword to it and hacking off some branches.

 

“Must you be such a child?” Regina demands, and Emma notices suddenly that she’s holding an apple in her hands and squeezing it.

 

“Must you be such an asshole?” she retorts, which isn’t her strongest comeback but probably the most accurate at the moment.

 

Emma clenches her fists and Regina sighs dramatically and yeah, fuck it, they’re kind of both acting like children. Emma has too much bottled up inside her, too much she _can’t_ explain to Regina anymore, and maybe she’d wanted distance but she hadn’t wanted this perpetual sniping. It’s exhausting and it’s heartbreaking and, “Don’t you ever feel like we’re just going in circles?” she says finally. “This is all so fucking pointless.”

 

Regina stares silently at her, _You started this_  written across her face.

 

Emma sighs. “I just…we’re running out of time to the curse. If we can’t stop it–“ 

 

“Zelena isn’t getting my heart,” Regina snaps, turning away from her. “And I’m going to use my mother’s reservoir of magic to protect everyone. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty more time to castigate me in peace.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to _castigate_ you!” Emma drops the apple to rub at her temples. A headache is coming on, and it feels like a bad one. “Not everything is about you, okay? Most of this isn’t about…Regina, you _changed_. You gave up on the murderous despot thing and you became some kind of hero.” She grabs Regina’s wrist and Regina freezes in place. “And you never did any of it for me. What am supposed to think? What good have I ever been for you?” 

 

Regina’s free hand is stiff at her side, her spine perfectly straight and only her head bowed the slightest bit toward the ground. Emma says, choked up and cursing herself for the vulnerability tugged out by Regina’s cool silence, “I was never enough for you.” 

 

Regina turns back, jerky and impassive at once, and her eyes bore holes in Emma. “You never said,” she says, her voice unreadable.

 

Emma hangs her head, flushing wildly, and hates the note of pleading in her voice. “You were better off without me,” she whispers. “I tried to tell you.” 

 

Regina stares at her for another long minute and then walks past Emma toward the castle doors, her face very, very still.

 

* * *

 

On the day before the curse is scheduled, they all spread out across the kingdom, armed and ready for a conflict from Zelena. There are no reports of Zelena, no alerts by bird or any other message, and Emma is riding alone across the western border while Mulan takes the opposite direction.

 

She doesn’t know what to expect- if Zelena’s promises had been only bravado, if there’s some last-minute attack on its way that’ll take down every safeguard they have, if the army surrounding Regina right now is about to be felled. She looks to the east anxiously, catching sight of something hovering in the sky.

 

It isn’t a flying monkey and it isn’t a messenger bird, and she squints until she sees telltale green below a witch’s hat. “Zelena,” she hisses, and turns Beetle around. 

 

She has her bow nocked and ready by the time they’re zooming toward each other and she fires once, then again, and then Zelena has passed her with a cackle. “Get back here!” she snaps, heels tightening against Beetle. Beetle turns and Zelena circles her again, tighter and tighter as she goes around, and Emma finally gives up and dismounts from Beetle for better maneuverability. Beetle is moving almost lethargically, worn out from all the circles they’ve been running in, and Emma pats him and nocks another arrow.

 

“So where’s your big leverage?” she demands. “How are you going to get your hands on Regina’s heart now?” 

 

Zelena throws back her head and laughs, diving down a little closer, and Emma runs through grass and flowers to follow her, infuriated. “You have no idea, do you?” She stops in place, hovering above orange blossoms, and Emma stalks forward to follow her, worn out and drowsy and furious. “You’d rather spend weeks on some wild goose chase and never imagine that Regina’s greatest weakness in all the realm is _right here_.” 

 

She smiles wickedly, gesturing down to the flowers around them, and Emma stumbles as she catches a whiff of the poppies. Poppies, _that can put anyone to sleep._ “No,” Emma says. “You overestimate my importance to Regina.”

 

“Do I?” Zelena hovers lower, careful to remain out of the reach of the poppies. “I told you that she would hand over her heart willingly. And she will, if your life is on the line.” 

 

“She won’t,” Emma says, certain at least of this one matter. “You’re wrong.” She’s woozy now, even Beetle ducking his head and closing his eyes, and her legs are suddenly heavy, too heavy to support her. “You’re wrong,” she says again, and feels them give way under her.

 

“We shall see,” Zelena hisses in sibilant triumph, and Emma can feel the world fade away as she falls.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a new update! I also updated yesterday, so be sure you read that first.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” Zelena is standing over her when Emma's eyes open, the beginnings of a headache blaring a greeting with consciousness. “I was beginning to think you were going to sleep the curse away.” She laughs as though there’s a private joke in that, and Emma squints around the room as she sits up.

  


She’s been laid out across a couch in the center of a vaguely familiar castle, one overgrown and abandoned, and she recognizes it after some inspection as King Stefan’s. They’re under the umbrella of Cora’s magic, the places Regina should be able to protect.

  


“Not this time,” Zelena says, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Let’s call on Little Sis now, shall we?” 

  


It’s only then that Emma notices the mirror hanging in midair in front of them, the surface of it smoky and shifting, and when Zelena waves a hand, it clears and shows Regina. 

  


She’s got her hands stretched out over the ground where they’d found that geyser of magic, brow furrowed and mouth tight; and when Zelena calls, “ _Reginaaaa_ ,” she whirls around as though she’s been slapped.

  


Her eyes fall upon them- or their heads floating in midair, whatever piece of them is being displayed by the mirror- and her mouth tightens some more. “Zelena,” she says. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.” Her eyes flicker to Emma only once before they return to Zelena.

  


Zelena wraps an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Well, now you know.” Emma elbows her in the ribs and gets a shock of magic down her spine for her trouble. “I’m surprised you didn’t anticipate this.” 

  


“Anticipate it, yes,” Regina says coolly, and Emma’s eyes widen in surprise. “But you overplayed your hand. Lady Swan and I aren’t exactly close these days.”

  


Zelena scoffs, unimpressed. “Please. I know you.” Regina sags, just like that, and Emma tenses. _No._ Regina wouldn’t be so foolish. “I’m in a castle north of you now. Your heart for _Lady Swan’s_ life.”

  


Emma finds her voice. “Don’t do it, Regina. Whatever you think you’re going to do…it’s not worth it.”

  


“For your love,” Zelena says, stroking Emma’s hair.

  


Emma can’t move her body with magic immobilizing her, but she manages to yank her head away and snarl, “The whole kingdom. Your _life_. I’d rather die than see you lost.” Regina’s gaze is impossible to interpret, cool and assessing them both. She’d given up her father for a curse; given up Henry for another, and Emma might not rank quite as high as them, but she hurts for Regina anyway. Regina, who feels so deeply and still must care for her, no matter how much those emotions have lessened. Regina’s going to have to make this decision when there’s only one decision to make.

  


Emma’s going to die. She’s calm with that understanding, resigned to it from the moment she’d seen Zelena in the poppy field. She won’t be used as leverage for everyone else’s freedom, and Regina will make the right decision. She’d thought they’d had time, but even that is gone. _I love you,_ she thinks at the figure in the mirror, whose eyes still blaze with hatred toward Zelena. She doesn’t dare say it, not now, not when it might tilt the scales in the wrong direction.

  


“Let me sweeten the pot for you,” Zelena smiles. It’s false and forced, and she yanks Emma back to her, fingers in her hair in a simulacrum of tenderness. “Your son.” 

  


They both freeze. 

  


“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Zelena sneers, but even she is beginning to quail beneath Regina’s glare. “I know where he is. I can guarantee to you, Regina, that if you hand over your heart, I’ll return him to Storybrooke.”

  


“I’ll be dead,” Regina points out, lip curled like she’s still not convinced. _Good._

  


“ _She_ won’t be.” There’s no question of which _she_ Zelena is referring to. “Give me your heart, and I right the wrong you did to Emma ten years ago. I bring your son back to her.” 

  


Regina’s eyes are suddenly open to them, grief and vulnerability warring within them. Emma is terrified. “I don’t need Henry,” Emma cuts in, frantic at the shift in Regina’s expression. “I don’t need anything but the safety of the kingdom. Regina, _no_.” 

  


“Regina, _yes_ ,” Zelena mocks. “How much longer is Emma going to be a casualty of your dramatics? She deserves better than this. Do you know how much time she spent saving your life from that potion? How _utterly devoted_ she is to you?” She laughs scornfully. “Don’t you owe her this?” 

  


“Oh, fuck off,” Regina grinds out, and the mirror abruptly goes grey again.

  


* * *

  


Zelena remains unfazed by Regina’s rejection. “I’m afraid I will have to kill you if she doesn’t arrive,” she says, shrugging. “I did rather like you.” 

  


“Or you could just skip this whole curse and be _happy_ ,” Emma fires back. She’s been locked into one of the rooms in the middle tower, nothing more to it than a bed and a toilet, and she’s already calculating just how far she’d have to fall if she jumps out the tiny window by the bed. If she can _fit_ through the tiny window by the bed, which…unlikely.

  


Zelena watches her with distaste and Emma says, “You love Regina. You love her more than anyone in the world. She loves you. There’s still something worth saving. Don’t kill me, or she might never forgive you. You can still find your happy ending.”  

  


“This is my happy ending,” Zelena sneers, storming from the room, and Emma can hear her voice outside of it as the door slams closed, and then another. For a moment of tension she thinks it’s Regina, but it’s cloyingly sweet to Zelena’s sharp words and only vaguely, vaguely familiar.

  


_“Be strong, dear child,”_ she hears, and then Zelena and her companion are gone and Emma is left in silence.

  


So she’s going to die. She has regrets- plenty of them. Unfinished business, times when she hadn’t managed to save people- _Quinn. James. Snow. Henry. Regina._ They line up like dominos, one to the next to the next, and when the final one falls, it’s inevitable but no less crushing. 

  


She dwells too much on her failures and they make it more and more difficult to see the moments when she hadn’t failed, when there’d been hope and love and courage ( _where is your courage now?_ and it’s like sludge in her veins, slow and useless and stoppered up somehow since Blue). She struggles to now, to remember victory. Surrounded by her men, exulting in food for the hungry. Surrounded by _friends_ , Al and Mulan and Lancelot and Neal, Merry Men and more than that. David and Snow and hope and second chances. Wrapped in a blanket and Regina’s embrace and a newborn baby in her arms. 

  


And then that day out in the garden, lying beside Regina as she’d blown puffs of magic toward Henry, the three of them suffused with color. Emma clings to the memory with all the energy she has, suddenly determined that this one will be her last. 

  


When the door slides open again, Emma barely notices, not until Zelena says, “You have until dawn.” Her voice is almost regretful, tinged with panic, and Emma blinks away the memories and turns to the door.

  


Regina says, “You don’t have to do this,” and Emma gapes up at her in horror.

  


“I do,” Zelena whispers, and the sisters are staring at each other with loss in their eyes. She clears her throat. “Once we’re in Storybrooke, I’ll let Emma go. I’ve already contacted someone who can get to Henry. I will keep my promises.” 

  


“No,” Emma says loudly. Neither of them turn. “No!” 

  


Zelena leans over and kisses Regina’s forehead, gentle and regretful, and she slips out of the room and leaves them there alone, Regina watching her go with a hollow sort of understanding.

  


“No!” Emma says again. “No, no, no.” 

  


“Idiot,” Regina says, crossing the room to her in three quick steps. “How did you get yourself captured? Didn’t you know you were her target?” 

  


Emma shakes her head wordlessly. 

  


“Idiot,” Regina repeats. “I love you.”

  


Emma stares up at her. She’s sitting against the wall on the bed, her feet up in front of her, and Regina towers over her with the majesty of a queen. “I love you,” Regina says again, gathering her skirts to step even closer. There’s an odd armband around her wrist, one Emma’s never seen before. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?” 

  


“I hoped you wouldn’t,” Emma manages. “The kingdom…”

  


“The kingdom can burn in hell.” Regina drops to her knees unexpectedly, down in front of the bed, and Emma is drawn forward as she does. A hand cups Emma’s cheek and Regina says with force, “You are always going to come first, Emma Swan. You matter more than every single person in that godforsaken kingdom, do you understand?”

  


Emma’s forgotten how to move, how to respond, how to do anything but silently shake her head.

  


Regina shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re _selfish_ and _wrong_ because of that. But you know what? It’s time that _someone_ was selfish on your behalf. God knows that you’ve been suffering in all those _insipidly noble_ ways for long enough.” Regina slides her fingers over, drawing a stray lock of hair behind Emma’s ear.

  


Emma opens her mouth and then closes it again. And then opens it, and she doesn’t know if she’s touched or horrified. “All those people…”

  


“Will wake up in their beds in Storybrooke with a real sewage system–“ She wrinkles her nose at the toilet in the corner. “With their homes intact and Zelena appeased. They’re going to be _fine_. And you’re going to be safe.” 

  


Emma grasps her by the high collar of her dress and pulls her up, onto the bed, and kisses her hard. Regina melts into her and Emma tugs her closer, nearly sobbing at the taste of her. It’s been… _years_ , a decade, far too long since they’ve kissed. The world rights itself on its axis and turns to dust. Regina’s lips are as soft as they’ve ever been, and she still smells the same, like gentle perfume and tears. 

  


“I love you,” she breathes against Regina’s mouth. “I love you and you gave her your _heart_ , you…you…” She surges forward and kisses Regina harder, pinning her against the wall. Regina lets out a muffled sigh and slides her fingers down to dip under Emma’s vest, digging into her tunic. “We have to…” She struggles to think, tearing her mouth from Regina’s, but it seems to have a mind of its own, peppering kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. “To save you…” 

  


“There’s nothing to save, Emma. This is it.” She’s tangled in Regina’s skirts, knees bent on either side of her so she’s settled on her lap, and Regina’s still holding onto her like she’ll never let go. “I can’t think of a better reason to die.” 

  


“Fuck that.” Emma pulls herself from Regina, breathing heavily, and rests her forehead against hers. “There has to be another way.”

  


“There isn’t.” Regina’s voice is hoarse, her breath tickling Emma’s lips as she raises the hand with her armband. “I don’t even have magic right now. Emma, it’s done.” 

  


Emma's already thinking about how to get out of that window, about rescue attempts and what magic Regina still might access, and Regina holds her tighter. “I want you to know…you were the only good thing in my life for a long time.” 

  


“Regina–” 

  


A finger lands on her lips. “Listen. We don’t have much longer. I want you to know that…I don’t think I ever would have had a chance at escaping from myself if not for you. That everything I did– I don’t know what I would have done to myself or to Henry or to the town if I hadn’t seen your face in that book.” Regina laughs, uncertain and shaky. “I think it was meant to destroy me, but it only gave me hope.”

  


She kisses two fingers and then presses them to Emma’s lips and Emma is very still, listening. “I know you think that you weren’t enough to change me. You weren’t.” It’s gentle but it still lands like a slap, and Regina shakes her head with exasperation when Emma recoils. “God, Emma, no one could change me when I didn’t want to be changed. Henry had to threaten his own life for me to get my head out of my ass. _I_ changed me. _I_ made myself better.” There’s a tinge of pride in her voice, and it’s almost shy and plaintive and Emma is breathless at its brightness. “I did it for Henry. And I did it for you.” 

  


Her fingers run across Emma’s skin like a balm, and Emma sags. “What…what were you going to do to me during the curse? Why won't you tell me?” She knows about Snow’s punishment and David’s, and even Maleficent the dragon’s. She knows that Regina had sown unhappiness and been gleeful when it had been reaped and she knows that the curse had made all of them miserable. 

  


“I didn’t think you’d want to know,” Regina murmurs, and she kisses the edge of Emma’s jaw once, nuzzling against it. “You were so angry and then so…You didn’t need to hear any of it.” 

  


“I do now,” Emma says firmly, raising Regina’s chin to meet her eyes. “I need to…” She doesn’t know what it’ll prove, what bitterness could have been, what she’d lost this time. But it’s been a hollow beat in time with her heart for too long, an admission of how deeply Regina’s hatred had gone. She’d clung to it as reason why they’d been doomed from the start, transient love weighted down by hate, and it bites at her corners even now.

  


“There was a two-family house two blocks from Main Street,” Regina says, ducking back into her neck. “Close to Granny’s and just far enough from the school that you’d be eligible for a bus stop at your house. I didn’t have much control over the curse, but when I saw that house, I _knew_. That’s where you and Henry were supposed to live.” 

  


“And Henry,” Emma repeats, dubious. 

  


“And Henry,” Regina says firmly. “We would have shared custody, of course. You’d be the sheriff of the town and save cats from trees, mostly, because there were no people to save. We’d work together closely and you’d have your Merry Men as deputies and you would have lacked for nothing.” 

  


“What would you have done to me?” She doesn’t understand where the _punishment_ is, where Regina’s vengeance would have manifested. She remembers rage and a thousand blows at her and Regina shouting after her, _I’ll destroy you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you!_ from her prison cell. None of this lines up with what she’d known of Regina near the end.

  


Regina leans back, her fingers releasing Emma as she gazes up at her. “I would have loved you.” She laughs. “Do you see why I didn’t think you’d want to hear it? I’m not…I can’t sustain hate against you. I was never any good at it. I tried for so long and then I saw you on that final night before the curse and I loved you again, very nearly forgave you.” 

  


“I don’t understand.”

  


“Don’t you?” Regina’s eyes are knowing, and _yes_ , Emma understands how grudges begin to feel exhausting around Regina, how hate is easily put aside, how they keep trying to move past the baggage of the past, inexorably and unconsciously. It isn’t about weakness as much as it’s just simple, inalterable love.

  


And now agony. She slides her hands through Regina’s hair, loosening it and framing it around her face. “We wasted so much time,” she breathes. “So much that could have been…I love you.” 

  


“You said that before,” Regina murmurs, her eyes alight with laughter. 

  


“I’m going to keep saying it. Not because you handed over your heart to your evil sister. But because…I don’t know. I love you.” She groans. “How’s this for insipid?” 

  


“Come here.” Regina’s already breathing hotly against Emma's skin, her tongue tracing a path down her tunic. Emma promptly forgets her frustration with herself. She’s better at actions than words anyway. 

  


She’s tugging at Regina’s clothes a moment later and kicking off her own with Regina’s assistance, shirts and vests and bodices all gone and only the two of them naked together and Emma still on Regina’s lap. She pushes forward, pressing wetness against Regina’s skin, and they both lurch into each other. 

  


There doesn’t seem time for foreplay, time to enjoy at last, not when they only have this one night before the curse breaks. They’d done this before with the understanding of an end, but never one so dire as this, and Emma chokes back her hopelessness at the idea of losing Regina at dawn and buries herself in her, in her taste and touch and skin, and Regina presses ever closer to her.

  


Regina is laughing softly when she comes, relief on her face as Emma cries, and she strokes the back of Emma’s neck. “It’s going to be okay.” 

  


“Like hell it is.” Emma lays her head down against Regina’s shoulder, her fingers still playing with wiry curls between Regina’s legs. “She has your heart.”

  


Regina presses a kiss to the top of Emma’s head. “I know.” This is different than the other times they’ve been together, somehow. That feeling of impermanence lingers, but the rest…Emma finally feels like she can _breathe_ , like this could have been something that could stay. That it finally isn’t the two of them who are keeping them apart.

  


It’s almost like they have a future together instead of just a past; except for that part where one of them is going to have a crushed heart at dawn. 

  


Emma sits up, a sudden idea occurring to her. “My heart,” she says, sliding her hands to Regina’s cheeks. Even when her mind is working furiously, she can’t seem to let go of Regina for a moment. “You can take my heart and put it in your chest.” 

  


“It doesn’t work like that,” Regina lays a hand on Emma’s breast, drawing absentminded circles around her nipple. “You need your heart. We could both die if you tried that.”

  


“I’m willing to risk it.” 

  


“Of course you are.” Regina rolls her eyes. “Emma, I didn’t give up my life to watch you sacrifice yours. Let me have this one.” 

  


“I just found you again,” she says miserably, and Regina gathers her into her arms and trails kisses across her eyelids. Emma curls up against her, drawing the blanket around them both. “I’m not going to give you up now.” 

  


“I do love you very much,” Regina murmurs, and over her shoulder, the sky outside is beginning to turn orange. Emma hisses out a curse and Regina tucks her chin onto Emma’s head. “Tell Henry that I love you both.” 

  


“Take my heart out,” Emma says instead, a new idea flickering in her mind. It’s wild, it’s impossible, and she feels more like Snow’s hopeless optimist than she does herself in that moment. But she’s just desperate enough that she’ll take any chances. Regina narrows her eyes at her. “Please, Regina. Trust me.” 

  


It’s strange that now this is about Regina’s trust in her when it had once been the thing to destroy them in the first place nearly two decades ago, but Emma can’t help but feel like they’ve come full circle. Regina is curled around her and they aren’t girls anymore, drunk on their own immortality and the power of new love, and her hand slipping into Emma’s chest is warmth and safety and trust instead of devastation.

  


Regina had taken her heart from her the first time they’d kissed and Emma had begged her to return it, had vomited on the floor and felt her loss of freedom and known then that they’d lost a piece of themselves together. Today Emma begs for her to take it and she thinks they’ve finally found themselves, picked up the pieces they’d left in each other that day and loved them, too.

  


There’s only faint pain when Regina pulls out the heart, and then peace with her decision. “Split it in half,” Emma whispers. 

  


“Emma.” 

  


“I can run on half a heart.” It isn’t the real organ, it’s some symbolic enchanted heart, and if they’re true loves…if they do have that kind of shared heart… “I want to try.” 

  


“You’ll die. You can’t just invent new rules for magic,” Regina murmurs. Her hand is wrapped around the heart and Emma feels safe and warm and protected. She sags back into Regina’s embrace, burrowing against her skin. “Hearts don’t split.” 

  


“Then we’ll both be dead.” Emma clenches her fists. “I don’t want to have to choose one of us or the other. We’ve fought too hard for this to end here.” Here, in a room in a tower, with the sunrise glowing at the horizon. They’re out of time. “You said I could be selfish. So let me be this time. I don’t want to live without you.” 

  


“ _Idiot_ ,” Regina says again. She kisses her swiftly, lips on lips and hands locked together over Emma’s heart, and daylight is beginning to fill the room when they pull apart.

  


Emma holds onto her heart, keeping it in place, and Regina _twists._ It’s agony like Emma’s never known, a bit like childbirth but even worse in the way her chest cramps up and she can’t breathe, she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she falls back against the thin pillow on the bed as the pain hits a peak. “Emma,” Regina says, voice pitched high in panic. “Emma, are you with me?”

  


“Still breathing,” she croaks, a moment before she actually does suck in a breath. Her cheeks are wet and she can’t quite move, not until Regina’s eyes are shining down at her. “Did we…?” 

  


“I can’t believe it,” Regina says, looking dazed and breathtaking and there's… _hope_ , shining in her eyes. Emma gazes at her in wonder. “I can’t believe that _worked_.” She stares at the two pieces of Emma’s heart glowing red in her hands and Emma laughs out loud, the same hope filling her like a bubble in her chest in place of where her heart had been. “We did it.” 

  


“We did it,” Emma echoes, and she manages to sit up enough to pull Regina to her, kissing her over the hearts. “Now we just have to see if they’ll go into–“ 

  


She stops talking. Regina has begun convulsing against her, her eyes wide open in horror as her body goes limp. “Emma–“ she begins, and then drops backward, so quickly that Emma barely manages to catch her in her arms and lay her down on the bed. All life has faded from her face and the two pieces of Emma’s heart have fallen out of her grasp onto the bed.  

  


“Oh, no. Too soon. Too soon.” Emma’s heartbeat is back in her ears, pounding frantically and driving her into panic. “Regina! _Regina!_ ” There’s no answer from the body- _corpse, oh god, Regina’s a_ ** _corpse_** \- on the bed. She’s on her own, no magic or experience in hearts, and Regina’s life depends on her.

  


Carefully, carefully, she lifts the first half of the heart and presses it into her chest where Regina had taken it, and new terror floods through her with the returned sensations. Her eyes are clouding up with tears and her heart is aching and _Regina, please, please be…_

  


She lifts the second half and eases it gingerly into Regina’s chest, dropping down to lie beside her and wait. She has a hand on Regina’s chest and her head is against her shoulder and she feels it through her whole body when Regina sucks in a gasping breath and jolts. “Regina!” 

  


“Emma.” 

  


She’s crying again and maybe she’s laughing, too; she’s breathless and she’s kissing Regina and Regina is kissing her back, wrapping her arms around Emma and biting her lip and her heart beating a steady rhythm against Emma’s hand. “We won,” she breathes, amazed. “We never win.” She’s felt sometimes like her entire life has just been her clawing at walls as she spirals downward, struggling to stay up for just a few moments before she loses her foothold. And today…somehow…even with a curse bearing down on them, she feels like the victor.

  


“We cheated,” Regina corrects her, a sly smile curling onto her face. It pauses as it unfurls and Regina’s brow creases with sudden concern. “And now we’re going to forget all of this, aren’t we?”

  


“Forget?” But yes, of course Zelena’s going to make them forget. This is a curse that can trap them in time if she so desires, though Regina’s been adamant throughout that Zelena won’t write them into new roles. _That requires no magic,_ she’d told them at the war council, _And Zelena needs magic for her plans._ Emma squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t want to forget this year. I don’t want to go back to hating you.” 

  


“Have faith,” Regina croons, her lips brushing against the shell of Emma’s ear. “We’re two parts of a whole now, aren’t we? We’ll break the curse. We’ll find Henry.” 

  


“We’ll still love each other,” Emma agrees, leaning in for another kiss. She’s drunk on Regina, addicted to her closeness and her lips and body on hers for whatever ephemeral time they have, and they’re entwined again on the bed, sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together as they struggle for friction and their hands wander back to each other. 

  


And Emma feels only this uncharacteristic peace and faith as green smoke rises around them, pouring in through the windows and doors and enveloping them in its curse.

  


**END PART III**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER PART DOWN. There's one more part to this fic, and I estimate it to be 8-9 chapters total! I'm going to go on hiatus while I organize it and take some time for other projects, but I should be back to heartlines soon with an interlude and Part IV (which will be the second half of this fic! this fic is not complete.)
> 
> Thanks so much for all your continued support and feedback. Y'all are the best readers a writer could ask for t b q h <3


	11. Chapter 11

_The room is packed like Zelena’s never seen before. Lady Cora has hosted parties but never any so extravagant as this one, never so wholly joyous as this. The people at Lady Cora’s balls are fearful and snide, and Lady Cora seems to loathe them as much as they loathe her. Regina is the darling of the room at those parties, though, and Zelena’s never been allowed to leave the kitchen until the guests are gone._

 

_She doesn’t know why Lady Cora had invited her to this one but she clutches Regina’s hand anyway, mindful of her friend’s unsteadiness as she gapes at the crowd, and Lady Cora says with a snake-sly smile, “Ah, Eva. What a lovely affair. I nearly did think you would never have the opportunity to celebrate a child.”_

 

_“Well, we don’t all marry to hide away our bellies,” Lady Eva shoots back, the same smile on her face. She tucks her hand into Lady Cora’s. Lady Cora raises it to her lips, gallant and mocking at once, and Zelena doesn’t understand either of them. “The bastard has your look about her.”_

 

_Regina huffs with boredom and tugs Zelena away from her mother and the other lady. “A ball, Zelena!” she says, eyes shining. “I’m so glad Mother said you could come as well!” She’s five years old and very precocious, beloved by her estate and her father and however Lady Cora defines love, and Zelena would lay down her life for her best friend._

 

_Today, though, all Regina wants to do is explore this castle, duck into nooks and crannies and side rooms and babble all the way through it. “Do you think there are secret passages?” she wonders. “I shall live in a castle like this someday! Oh, Zelena, look!” The smile has vanished from her face, and Zelena cranes her neck and spots what she’s pointing at._

 

_There’s a little blonde girl huddled in a corner, her knees bent and her arms around them. She doesn’t look much younger than Regina, and she’s glaring up at a boy standing over her with ferocious defiance. He looks enough like the girl that Zelena thinks they must be siblings. Twins, maybe. “It’s true!” she snarls at him. “I know it’s true! Sir Edward said it was so!”_

 

_The boy laughs at her. “That’s stupid,” he says, kicking at her knee._

 

_Regina is in front of them at once, grabbing the boy and pulling him away from the girl, and Zelena watches in consternation as she rounds on him. “That’s not nice!” she says, imperious, and the boy laughs at her, too, yanks his arm away, and swaggers off._

 

_“I hate him,” the girl says gloomily._

 

_“He’s a…” Regina’s brow furrows as she struggles to come up with an appropriate word. “Pen-dejjja.”_

 

_The girl giggles up at her. “Is that a word?”_

 

_Regina’s face turns pink with pleasure. “It’s what cook calls Mother when I’m not supposed to be listening,” she informs the girl, and the girl giggles again. “Wanna come find a secret passageway with me?”_

 

_“Okay!” The blonde girl jumps up and Zelena takes a step forward, mindful of Regina’s tendency to vanish on her. In fact, Regina turns a corner the next moment and she and the girl are racing up the main stairs of the castle together, the girl one step ahead of Regina, and she does a little victory dance at the top of the stairs before Regina bowls her over._

 

_“I won!” the girl protests._

 

_“I won_ better _,” Regina retorts, her eyes gleaming with the same energy as Lady Cora gets sometimes. The girl pouts at her and Regina melts a little. “But you won good.”_

 

_“Yeah!” The girl cheers and they grab each other’s hands again, gleeful fast friends, and Zelena heaves a long-suffering sigh and heads after them as they round another corner._

 

_“What do you think this place is?” Regina is wondering when Zelena catches up to them. They’re in royal quarters– not the king’s quarters, Zelena’s relieved to note from the decorations, but a nursery that must be for the tiny reason this ball is happening._

 

_“These are Snow White’s quarters,” Zelena hisses at them. “You can’t just storm in!”_

 

_“But no one’s here!” Regina protests. “Who’s looking after the baby? She shouldn’t be alone!”_

 

_The other girl bobs her head, taking a step into the room, and Regina is right at her side in an instant. “Look,” she says, frowning. “She’s fussing.”_

 

_Zelena takes a grudging step into the room to see. The baby_ is _fussing, whining in a low tone and completely unsupervised, and the girls all step forward to her crib. “What do we do?”_

 

_The blonde girl picks up a rattle from the crib, shaking it in front of the baby’s face, and the baby’s fussing builds up to full-blown tears. “Oh, no,” the girl says, stricken._

 

_“It’s okay! I can do it,” Regina says confidently. She reaches into the crib, rubbing the baby’s stomach and singing in a lilting voice, but the baby just cries harder. “Zelena, help,” she begs. “Use your magic.”_

 

_“Magic,” the other girl says, awed. “You have_ magic _?”_

 

_“Zelena does. Mother says I’m no good at it.” Lady Cora had sealed Regina’s powers the first time she’d used her own magic on Regina and Regina had blasted her backward. Zelena had watched through the keyhole of her door and Lady Cora had threatened to kill Zelena if she ever told Regina what Lady Cora had done._

 

_Now, though, Zelena can close her eyes and let shiny greenish bubbles sprout from her fingers, filling the room with tiny reflective balls. The baby gurgles interestedly and Regina and the other girl bounce with delight._

 

_“More!” Regina demands, twirling the girl in a circle and seizing Zelena’s hand as well. Zelena focuses on making them multicolored, filling the room as the baby makes peaceful noises and the girl and Regina spin around and around and around with her. The room is glowing with light and Zelena releases Regina’s hand so she can spin into the blonde girl’s arms, trying to dip like they’d seen women do on the ballroom floor._

 

_They land in a giggling pile on the ground, and none of them hear the gasp until all the bubbles pop at once. “Dark magic around the child!” a tinny voice demands in horror. “What are you children doing?”_

 

_The blonde girl scurries back as quickly as Regina and Zelena do, no stranger to punishment, either, and Zelena stands above the younger girls while the two of them huddle against the wall. “Who’s there?” she demands._

 

_“Cora’s daughters,” the voice says darkly. “Of course.” There’s a flash of light before Zelena can correct her– daughter, just daughter, Zelena is only a servant– and then a blue fairy is hovering above the crib, staring down at all of them._

 

_“Lady Cora is not my mother,” she says at once, fearful of consequences. “This is my fault, not hers.”_

 

_“Cora has been lying to you,” the fairy says, dismissive, and flutters to the other two girls. “You shouldn’t be here.”_

 

_“We were just looking,” the blonde girl whispers. She has a protective arm around Regina, and Regina leans close to her._

 

_“What are you doing here?” the fairy asks, her tiny lip curling. “You’re no princess.” The girl cowers and shakes her head. “And you–“ She rounds on Regina. “You are poison.”_

 

_“Hey!” The girl says hotly, regaining her courage at the threat to her friend. “You don’t talk to her like that!” Regina gives her a toothy smile, already besotted with her. Zelena stares down at them, still processing what the fairy had said to her._

 

Cora has been lying to you. Cora’s daughters. _It’s impossible– except she does look oddly like Lady Cora, the same eyes and smile and magic– but why wouldn’t she–_

 

_It can’t be._

 

_But fairies always tell the truth, don’t they?_

 

_Regina could be her_ sister, _and she aches with desire for it to be real._

 

_The baby begins to cry again and the fairy says, “Leave this room. This child is mine.” She flutters down to hover just above the baby, distracting tiny Snow White from her lost bubbles, and they all stare at them. “Leave!” the fairy says sharply, and they all exit the room, their eyes glued to the fairy._

 

_Regina is the first to speak. “I don't like her. She’s mean.” The blonde girl nods her head vigorously. “I bet you are a princess.”_

 

_“I’m not anyone,” the girl mumbles, smoothing down a dress that looks like a hand-me-down of cheap nobility, even more removed from royalty than even Lady Cora’s– no,_ Mother _, maybe, if the fairy is right– family is._

 

_Zelena stares back at the crib, watches as the fairy looks up again and their eyes lock._

 

_“You’re my friend,” Regina says loyally. “Someday Mother says I’ll be a queen, and I’ll make you a queen too.” The girl giggles and Regina presses a smacking kiss on her cheek, and Zelena sees it only out of the corner of her eye, caught in the fairy’s gaze._

 

_There’s a connection between them, undeniable, and the fairy smiles at her with something that might be disgust, but might be hunger instead, the same brand of it that has Lady Cora cooing over Regina. The same brand of it that the fairy has on her face when she looks down at Snow White. Uncertain, Zelena smiles back._

 

* * *

 

** PART IV **

 

One moment, Emma’s riding Rocinante into a purple cloud and cursing Regina’s name, the next she’s bolting awake with a gasp. 

 

_What the hell?_ She struggles to open her eyes. The air smells…wrong, _different_ , and the bed she’s lying on is soft and luxurious in a way that no bed she’s been on since leaving Regina’s castle had been. Wherever she is, it feels quiet and still, sterile of life in a way that Emma’s never experienced before.

 

Her body feels sluggish, calm and relaxed like it hasn’t been in a long, long time. And there’s someone in her arms, smooth skin beneath her fingers, and she knows the scent and feel of her intimately.

 

Now her eyes finally do pop open and a strained sound emerges from her mouth, desperate and terrified as she finally sees where she is. _Naked_. Wrapped around a sleeping and equally naked Regina. “Oh, my… _fuck_ ,” she finally spits out, kicking away from her and off the bed. 

 

She’s shaking with horror, her heart pounding erratically, and Regina blinks twice blearily and says in a voice husky with sleep, “Emma?” She squints out at Emma as though she isn’t quite sure that she’s real. “How…?” 

 

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Emma demands, her voice high and shrill. “What have you done? What is this–“ She glances around a room she’s never seen before, out a window that overlooks a place that doesn’t look real, flat rooftops and dirtless grounds and sparse trees. “What have you done?”

 

“I don’t know.” Regina’s eyes linger on her torso for a moment before looking up at her with shining hope and disbelief and Emma is unsteady under her gaze, furious and helpless and trapped, and her heart is still beating wildly like there’s something wrong with it. She feels… _different_ , coldness sliding through her veins like it’s stopping the heat of her reaction, and she bolts from the room into a hallway.

 

“Emma, wait!” She finds a staircase and runs down it, still stark naked, and she twists to the side to find what looks like a kitchen. _Good._ There’s a knife block on the counter and she yanks out a boning knife, flips it in her hand to test its weight, and waits behind a cool, two-doored closet near the entrance of the room. It hums with energy a moment later and she leaps away from it, eyes wide.

 

“Emma?” Regina’s voice sounds plaintive, as though she’s already resigned herself to Emma being only an illusion. Emma flattens herself against the cold closet again, hearing barefooted steps against a wooden staircase. 

 

Regina has donned a satin robe, and Emma sees blue fabric on her knee before Regina comes into view. She spins around, slamming Regina into a counter and shoving the tip of the knife into her neck. “If I see even a hint of a flame in your palms I’m going to stick this into you and twist,” she snarls.

 

Regina raises her chin, baring it even more. “I…” Her eyes flicker to an odd armband around her right wrist. “My magic is being blocked,” she whispers, her eyes pained.

 

“Good.” Emma’s heart gives a dangerous heave and it’s still wild and unstable, beating every other beat as Regina’s pulse fills in the blanks. “Good, I’m going to kill you,” she hisses, jabbing the knife in deeper, and demands the one thought always on her mind. “Where is Henry?” 

 

Tears leak from Regina’s eyes, sliding down onto the shiny metal of the knife. “You’re really Emma, aren’t you?” She’s breathing hard, the thin satin of her robe cool against Emma’s skin. Like this, standing pressed to each other with only that between them, nipples rough and scraping and Regina’s leg between Emma’s, Emma doesn’t know if she wants to kiss Regina or kill her. “Henry is– The last I remember–“ She shakes her head, shivering in the cold of the kitchen.

 

Emma tightens her grip on her knife and holds onto her determination, her other hand on Regina’s thigh. Regina’s eyes dilate as she bears still closer, their bodies flush against each other like a simulacrum of lovemaking. “Tell me now, you evil–“

 

There’s a ringing in her ears at once, loud and dangerous and endless like the entire house is shaking with it, and Emma stumbles back, clapping her hands against her ears. “What are you doing to me?” she shouts over the noise. It stops and then begins again, strident and vicious, and Emma ducks, the knife hanging between the backs of her fingers as she shields herself from this new attack.

 

Regina blinks away the despair from her eyes to roll them at Emma, undisturbed by her panic. As though she hasn’t _lied_ and used her magic to incapacitate Emma without a second thought. “It’s a telephone,” she says, and snatches up a long white rectangle from the counter, pressing buttons on it. The ringing stops immediately. “Hello?” 

 

A tinny voice comes from the other end, loud and frantic but still unmistakably Snow. “Regina,” she sobs into the phone. “Regina, what’s going on?” 

 

Emma stares in silence, clutching onto her knife like a lifeline. Regina says, “Pan’s curse must have succeeded. I can’t remember anything after Henry at the town line.” _Henry!_  Emma raises her knife with new energy but Regina ignores it.

 

“No, that isn’t what…” Snow takes in a ragged breath. “Something happened in between. Something I can’t remember.” 

 

“Is that why Emma is in my kitchen trying to kill me?” Regina asks wryly. 

 

“Emma!” Snow’s sobs cut off for a moment. “Emma’s here?” 

 

“You’re on speaker.” 

 

“Yeah,” Emma says grudgingly, eyes flickering from the… _telephone_ to Regina. “I’m here." It does sound like Snow, even if Regina doesn’t sound much like Regina around Snow. Still, though, she’s seen Neverland in the Dark One’s crystal ball and the two of them not quite despising each other, so maybe–

 

“Emma, stop trying to kill Regina,” Snow says reprovingly.

 

“You have no idea what she’s done to– _where am I_?” Emma demands, hopelessly lost.

 

“Storybrooke, Maine,” Regina says softly.

 

Snow says from the other end of the telephone, “I’m coming right over.” There’s a click and Regina replaces the white rectangle into its seat.

 

“Storybrooke, Maine,” Emma repeats, setting the knife down with reluctance.

 

“This is where my first curse took us,” Regina says calmly. “I raised Henry in this house. Most recently that I can remember, Peter Pan attempted to curse us to destroy this whole town. I was able to cast a counter-curse, but it was supposed to take us back to the Enchanted Forest.” She casts a calculating eye on Emma. “Which it’s possible it did. What’s the last thing you remember?” 

 

Emma says instead, “Henry?” 

 

Regina looks pained again. “We sent him over the town line so he’d be spared the curse. It was the price for casting the counter-curse. I had to say goodbye to the one I love most.” 

 

“Did you–“ 

 

Regina cuts her off, looking horrified before Emma can even get the question out. “ _No_ , I didn’t hurt him. Of course I didn’t–“ She takes a deep breath. “Let’s get you clothes, shall we? I don’t think Snow needs to know the details of how we woke up here.” 

 

She scratches unconsciously at the wristband she still wears, and Emma eyes it with misgiving. “What is that?” 

 

“It’s…it’s been used on me before. It suppresses my magic. I have no idea how it got on me today.” 

 

“So you were being held captive before this curse.” Emma’s eyes narrow. “This mysterious curse that only you have ever cast before. And someone viewed you as a threat.” 

 

Regina heaves a sigh, leading the way upstairs. “I didn’t cast the curse, Emma. I have no memories–“ 

 

“Maybe you didn’t want to remember. Maybe you had a rough year.” Her own heart thumps wildly in response, half-finished beats that don’t quite finish. Something is wrong with her heart and Regina would have needed a heart to complete the curse. It’s all adding up to make horrifying sense. “And I woke up _naked_ in your bed.” 

 

Regina pauses in front of her dresser, twisting to stare at her. “What are you implying?” she says in a low tone, aghast. “You think I…cast a curse to _rape_ you?” She takes a step back from Emma and Emma takes a step back from her, yanking open a drawer and suddenly desperate to find clothing. 

 

Inside the drawer are folded shirts, neatly organized and a good fit for Emma, and she doesn’t understand why Regina looks just as horrified at her clothing as she does Emma’s suggestion. “What is it?” 

 

Regina yanks open the next drawer, and then the next, and then she crosses the room to fling open closet doors and stare at the interior. One side is all dresses, dark and dull and simple in comparison to what she’d worn as the Evil Queen, and the other– Now even Emma understands.

 

The other is _different_ , tight jackets made of soft leather, and Emma tries one on over her shirt and is equally stricken when it’s a perfect fit. “These aren’t your clothes,” she says dully. 

 

“Half of all of it is,” Regina whispers, meeting her eyes. Emma’s caught within them as they burn with confusion and fear and guilt, and she takes a step back, struggling to tamp down her fury as Regina speaks. “I didn’t– I wouldn’t have done this to you, Emma.” 

 

“Wouldn’t have cast a curse for me to be…what? Your _wife_?” Emma chokes on the word, snarls it out louder, and Regina shakes her head wildly. “You’re a fucking piece of work.”

 

She snatches a pair of long, dark blue pants, staring at the underwear proffered in another drawer for a moment. Regina closes her eyes and turns, her fists clenched, and she walks into a room that Emma hadn’t seen before and slams the door shut, locking it. A moment later, Emma can hear the sound of water rushing in the room.

 

She finds another room like it down the hall and figures out how to make hot water pour from a spout above her, scalding her skin until she can’t feel the sensation of Regina’s skin against hers anymore.

 

She bathes in a hurry, fearful of Regina emerging before she does, and she dresses quickly and searches the rooms upstairs for any other clues. Instead, she finds an empty room with a plaid bedcover and too many clocks, and with a photo on the nightstand of the boy from Neverland wrapped in Regina’s arms. She inhales sharply, stretching out onto the bed and staring at the photo, and only when she hears the water stop in Regina’s– _their, oh god–_ room does she stand up again and make her way down the stairs.

 

She sees the intruder’s back first, short hair and protruding belly and her hands clasped behind her, and she clears her throat. “Uh.” 

 

Snow turns, her eyes dark and terrified, and Emma manages to hold her before she bursts into tears. “ _Emma_ ,” she whispers. “Oh, Emma.” 

 

“Snow.” Emma shuts her eyes and inhales the unfamiliar scent of Snow in this world, feeling her shaking against her. 

 

“The last thing I remember was saying goodbye to David at the town line,” Snow sobs against her. “I don’t know how…how long it was…” 

 

She’s _pregnant_ , Emma realizes a moment too late, and she feels a surge of compassion for her. Waking up naked in Regina’s bed had been violation enough; but waking up what looks like nine months pregnant with her husband in a different realm? “It must have been before,” she whispers, patting Snow’s back as soothingly as she can manage. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever Regina did–“

 

“Regina?” Snow shakes her head, brow furrowing. “You think Regina cast this curse?” 

 

“Who else?” 

 

“Regina’s different now,” Snow says, sounding very uncertain about it. “She wouldn’t have cast a curse again. Even if Henry is in this realm and…” 

 

“She’s wearing a cuff on her wrist,” Emma says. “She says it stops her from using magic. And…” She hesitates, unsure of how to explain whatever it is that’s making her heart beat wrong. “I think she might have used my heart to cast it.” 

 

Snow stares at her uncomprehendingly. “But you’re right here.” 

 

“It’s…” Emma presses a hand to her heart. Her heartbeat is irregular, harsh and then soft and then harsh again, and she shivers. “I don’t know. It hurts. Maybe it was your pregnancy that was the last straw of whatever alliance you had before this. She says she doesn’t remember anything, but I’m sure she’s lying.” 

 

“I’m not,” Regina says irritably from the top of the stairs. She’s emerged from the shower wet-haired and clad in a tight, short dress, two empty vials in her hands. “As convenient as it is to paint me as the villain of every piece, I didn’t cast this curse.” 

 

A flicker of doubt flashes across Snow’s face, and she asks reasonably, “But if you don’t remember, how can you know that?” 

 

“She needs to be locked up until we figure this out,” Emma says, glaring up at Regina with more distrust. She doesn’t know how she feels about her, about any of this– _had_ they slept together in another realm? She’d awakened with her body loose and sated but she has no idea if that had been a curse or something more– Regina _wouldn’t_. Would she?

 

She has no idea what Regina is capable of anymore. “That cuff isn’t enough.” 

 

“I can’t even get it off without cutting off my hand,” Regina snaps. The frustration is acute on her face, and she’s beginning to look just as trapped as Emma had felt earlier. Which… _good_. “I’m just as clueless as you.” She laughs, a choked little laugh that sounds a bit too close to a sob. “I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again for a long time, Emma. I didn’t expect it to be like _this_.” 

 

“In my dreams, I dug the knife a little deeper,” Emma fires back, fierce and unmoved by the despair in Regina’s eyes. Regina, who’d fucking _stolen away her son for seven years_ and dreams of…what? Love? She deserves none of that anymore. She doesn’t deserve anything but a death sentence. “Now, where the hell is my son?” 

 

“Gone,” Snow says, putting a cautioning hand on her wrist. “David with him. We sent him away to protect him.” 

 

Emma twists around, betrayed at Snow’s apparent compliance with Regina’s _horseshit_. “And you’ve been waiting nine years to do that, haven’t you?” she demands, watching the hurt cross Snow’s face at her attack. “You think _nothing_ of taking children from their mothers and–“ 

 

“Well, you’re the one who did it in the end, aren’t you?” Regina says sharply. “You can’t blame _her_ for putting Henry in that wardrobe.”

 

“I didn’t put Henry in the wardrobe! You did!” Emma accuses, twisting back to her. “You stole him from me for nearly a _decade_! And yet somehow _I_ didn’t play god with an entire kingdom over it. Twice!” 

 

Regina shifts the vials to one hand and strides down the stairs, placing a hand against Emma’s chest before she can recoil. “I don’t know if I can take it out with this cuff on. It suppresses my magic, but the magic of the heart itself can be channeled if done properly.” She shrugs helplessly. “You aren’t the only one whose heart feels…unmatched. I can try to see what’s wrong with it.” 

 

“No!” Emma says, outraged. “Absolutely not! You think I would ever, _ever_ let you touch my heart again?” She remembers the last time, sobbing against a young Regina and nausea and the end of whatever good they’d ever been able to build together.

 

Or is it even the last time? She imagines for a moment being trapped in Regina’s castle, chained up _in her bed_ , oh god, naked and helpless, and Regina with empty eyes digging her hand into Emma’s chest. Taking her heart, replacing it with some cheap facsimile–

 

She’s backing up before she can think about it, turning around as Snow says her name and Regina sucks in a ragged breath, and she sees only the door to outside in front of her and the doorknob that can free her from this nightmare. She has to get _out_ , get away from Regina and whatever new horrors she’s wrought, and she closes her hand around the doorknob and yanks it open.

 

A boy stands in front of her, his fist out as though he’d been about to knock. He blinks up at her and she blinks down at him, stunned. 

 

She’s only ever seen him like this once before, in a crystal ball, tracing out the letters of his name into the Neverland ground. She’s longed for him for every waking moment since the curse- the first curse– had been broken, and now he’s standing before her, craning his neck to look curiously into the house behind her and then up at her. “Are you Regina Mills?” he guesses.

 

She shakes her head faintly. There’s a cry from behind her, Snow calling another name, and then the sound of two glass vials shattering onto the floor. “I’m…Emma.” 

 

“Emma Swan.” He says, bobbing his head in sudden comprehension. “I’m Henry Swan-Mills. I’m your son.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get back to it, shall we? :)


	12. Chapter 12

“You know, when you’re an orphan, you kind of…spend your whole life wondering if maybe it’s a lie. If your parents are somewhere out there and they’re just waiting for you to find them, or maybe they’re trying to find you,” Henry says thoughtfully.

 

“I know,” Emma says. She’s sitting opposite him at the dining room table, watching him with the wariness that comes from too many years of disappointments. “I was an orphan, too.” 

 

Henry studies her, his curious face furrowed in thought. “But David–“ 

 

“Our parents put me up for adoption and kept David,” Emma clarifies. “I didn’t meet him until we were already adults.” She has her hand on the table, just a few inches from where Henry’s hand is, and both sets of eyes flicker to the space between them with uncertainty. Neither one of them has bridged the gap yet, and Emma’s terrified of the moment they do. “And then…we were taken from each other.” 

 

“Witness Protection Program,” Neal puts in. He’d followed David and Henry into the house, vanished into the kitchen for a moment to consult with Regina, and now he leans against the wall and distracts Henry when Emma slips up. “They still can’t talk to you about it, but they just wanted you to be safe.” 

 

“Yeah.” Henry’s eyes are hard to read, and Emma strains to see if there’s resentment within them or just longing. She doesn’t know him, this stranger who calls himself her son, and she wants to hold him and flee from him at once. He is everything. She’s never had _everything_ before.

 

At least _she_ isn’t hiding in the kitchen. Regina is ostensibly there to make them a late brunch, but she’d offered abruptly and then ordered them out of the room when they’d followed. She hasn’t even spoken directly to Henry yet, and he still looks hurt and bewildered at the brushoff. Snow and David are still outside, and Regina’s movements are all that they can hear in the house, heels clipping against linoleum and the sounds of pancakes being skillfully fried.

 

“The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to be with you,” Emma murmurs. “I would never have left you if I had had a choice in the matter.” 

 

“But you were together,” Henry says slowly. “David said that you couldn’t be here, either, just like me. But you’re living here.” 

 

Neal says, “That clause that let me come and get you? That applies for them too.” He’s always been an outstanding liar, and Emma’s never been more grateful for it. “Your mom came right here as soon as she could.” 

 

“This morning,” Emma confirms. “And…Ma.” 

 

Henry frowns. “What?” 

 

She shrugs and mumbles, self-conscious, “When you were a baby, you could only make the _ma_ sound, but there were two of us. So you called me Ma and Regina Mama.” She bites down on her lip and avoids his eyes. “I guess Regina is Mom now, but I’m still…” 

 

“Ma.” Henry smiles tentatively and it’s like gazing into the face of the sun. “Okay.”

 

Emma shifts in her seat, restless under his scrutiny. “How long does it take to make a few pancakes in this wor– in this town?”

 

“She’s avoiding me,” Henry says flatly, the smile gone.

 

Emma winces. “Oh, Henry, no.” 

 

He stares into the doorway of the kitchen and shrugs. “She hates me.” He tries to make it seem bland and unconcerned, but his voices hitches and he drops his smile. 

 

“She loves you,” Emma says instantly. _This,_ she knows and always will. “She loves you more than anything in the universe. She’s just…a little overwhelmed, I guess.” She stands, banging her knee on the table, and slips past Henry’s scrutiny into the kitchen.

 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you have to get out there,” she says, her voice low and dangerous with fury.

 

Regina is standing beside the stove, her back bent and her hands clamped against the counter, and she’s wracked with trembling that moves her stiff body violently. “I’ll be there when the pancakes are done.” 

 

There’d been a time when Emma’s first impulse would have been to wrap her arms around Regina’s waist, to brush kisses to her neck and whisper soothing murmurs into her ears. But they’re not those people anymore. Emma keeps her arms tight around her own waist and says, a distinct chill filling her voice and body, “He doesn’t remember seeing you yesterday. He’s meeting his mother for the first time and he thinks you _hate_ him.” 

 

“That–“ Regina’s voice hitches. “That isn’t Henry. He doesn’t _remember_ …everything we’ve gone through– you have no idea how–” 

 

Regina is small and vulnerable and unsteady and Emma loathes her with every fiber of her being. “How dare you. I have _no idea? I_ have _no idea?_ You think I have no idea what it means to be torn away from my son and lose years of our lives together?” She’s blind with rage, red-hot and vicious, and she wants to close her fingers around Regina’s neck again and squeeze until her eyes are popping and she’s afraid and Emma’s heart will finally feel _right_ again.

 

“I told you, I wasn’t the one to take him from you!” Regina snaps, twisting around at last. Emma sees blotchy red eyes and sallow wet skin and nothing but empty agony in her eyes. 

 

Emma doesn’t _care_ , not anymore, not about Regina’s misery when it’s only what she’s inflicted on others. “Look, I don’t want you anywhere around him,” she says fiercely, moving forward to trap Regina against the counter again. “I want you _gone._ I want you to lose him for a decade and never speak to him or even know if he’s okay.” Regina watches her silently, the streaks of tears still stark against her skin. Emma slams her hand down onto the counter behind Regina. “I want you miserable and alone and–“ A sob escapes, catches her throat until she’s crying too, lost in the years gone from her. 

 

Regina reaches to touch her cheek and Emma flies backward at the touch, flattens herself against the opposite wall and blinks back tears with little success. “I don’t trust you at all. But you’re going to make that kid think that his mama doesn’t love him and I refuse to let that happen.” 

 

Regina watches her blankly and Emma turns, ready to storm back to their son. _Finally, finally_. She has him again and Regina’s going to push him away. She won’t let it happen. She _can’t_.

 

“I _didn’t_ take him from you,” Regina repeats. 

 

Emma doesn’t turn back. “I don’t believe you.” Regina isn’t to be trusted or believed anymore, not about Henry and not about anything else. Regina might have taken almost a year of memories from this whole town to reclaim control of it.

 

“You must have in the year we don’t remember,” Regina whispers. “You wouldn’t have slept with me otherwise.” 

 

Emma knows that they _did_ , can feel it in her body and her movements and hates knowing it. And she can’t imagine she would have ever consented to… “No, I wouldn’t have,” she says, just enough vitriol on her tone for Regina to whisper her name in feeble denial, and she stomps out of the room.

 

She takes a minute in the foyer to wipe away the tears and make herself presentable again, staring at the face in the mirror and barely recognizing herself. Beyond her heart, she knows that something is _wrong_ , that a piece of her is missing. Maybe the part that would have taken a leap of faith on Regina even now.  Maybe Regina had stolen away a part of who she is last year, taken it brutally and left her digesting it now, and she feels it as a aching loss.

 

“Emma?” comes the soft voice behind her. Snow is sounding less bereft now, leaning onto David’s arm as she approaches them. “How are you?”

 

“Fine,” she lies, sounding like a sulky teenager. She clears her throat. “How are you?” 

 

“It’s been only about nine months since we left town,” Snow says, her eyes shining. “It’s okay.” 

 

“We were in New York until Neal and Milah and Belle showed up at our apartment last night,” David explains, shaking his head. “I nearly didn’t take the potion. I guess I’ve always been an idealist, though, and they promised…” His eyes flicker to Snow and they both beam at each other. “There was only one potion.” 

 

“Who gave it to them?” 

 

“According to Milah, they were approached by a hooded figure with a magic bean. She instructed them to make haste to us and give the antidote to _him, as promised._ ” David winces. “They’d thought that I was the _him_ mentioned, but I wonder now if it had been Henry. It sounds more like Regina’s handiwork than yours, Snow.” 

 

“Regina,” Emma echoes darkly. She can smell the pancakes burning in the kitchen.

 

Snow shifts in place. “We have to get Henry out of the house,” she says worriedly. “There’s no time for breakfast. If this is anything like the first curse breaking, there’s going to be an angry mob on her doorstep at any moment.” She’s all business now, the terrified woman gone and replaced with Snow as Emma’s always known her, and Emma nods with reluctance.

 

“Where will he go?” 

 

“He’ll stay with us for now,” David decides. “We’ll bring him back here as soon as we can be sure that the town is quiet. You’re welcome to join us, too,” he says hopefully. “The loft isn’t large but we can make do.” 

 

Emma _wants, wants, wants_. “I’m not leaving Regina to her own devices,” she mutters, feeling her bruised heart twist at the thought of more time here and away from Henry. “I’ll just…” She waves her hands vaguely toward the kitchen. “You need to take care of the baby.” 

 

She stalks to the dining room as Snow pokes her head into the kitchen. “Henry, you’re going to go with Snow and David. It isn’t safe here right now,” she says, as businesslike as she can bear.

 

“Snow?” Henry repeats.

 

“Mary Margaret,” David says from behind her.

 

“Oh.” He bites his lip. “Am I…are things bad again? Are you going to have to leave?” 

 

“No!” She reaches for him and this time he comes to her embrace, Emma holding him tightly as more tears leak from her eyes. “I’m never leaving you again,” she promises. “For as long as I live.” 

 

He clings to her and she remembers a tiny child, small enough to be held in her arms. This boy reaches nearly to her chin and his arms are long enough to wrap around her with ease, but he’s still hers. She rests her chin on the top of his head and hates and loves with equal fierceness.

 

They go out the back door (“Don’t take the main streets,” Neal advises, looking worriedly out the window) and they’re halfway across the yard when there’s a strangled “ _Henry!_ ” from the door. 

 

Henry stops and Regina hurtles past Emma down the steps of her porch, racing to him, and he looks up at her with fear and longing. She cups his face in her hands and speaks rapidly to him, and Emma can’t hear a word of it but she can see Henry’s eyes widen and then soften, the pain fading away. He whispers something back to Regina and she begins to cry again, this time open sobbing, and she presses her forehead to his before she staggers back from him.

 

When he’s finally departed, she sinks down onto the stairs and buries her face in her hands, the wind carrying her cries away from Emma’s ears.

 

* * *

 

Neal wolfs down the burnt pancakes like he hasn’t eaten in a month. “You have no idea how much fish I’ve had in the past year,” he says, wincing.

 

“You’ve been sailing with Captain Hook?”

 

“She’s my mother,” he says, apologetic. “I know she tried to kill you.”

 

“ _Milah_ is your mother?” 

 

He nods. “She left the main group almost immediately and I followed. We were far from the Enchanted Forest all year. I don’t know what went down there.” He pauses on the last pancake. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” 

 

“I’m not hungry.” Regina’s still outside, and Emma keeps a careful eye on her, wary of her escaping. She might not have her magic right now, but that won’t keep her from making a break for it. “David said that the woman you met said…” 

 

“A promise. Yeah. I guess Regina made a deal with someone to be sure that she’d have Henry if the curse broke. You think she cast it?” Emma nods. Neal’s brow furrows. “It just doesn’t sound like her anymore, you know? She wouldn’t do anything to compromise Henry’s love for her.” 

 

“Maybe she had a bad year.” She shivers, fighting the urge to scrape away her skin again. 

 

Neal eyes her. “Emma, are you okay?” 

 

“I’m fine,” she says again. It’s irrational to be this unsettled when everyone else is regaining their equanimity. She doesn’t feel comfortable in her own skin anymore, lost in this world where everything is different and pieces of her feel like they don’t fit right. She just needs some time to adapt, that’s all.

 

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, Neal finishing up his breakfast and Emma watching him and Regina and her own limp hands. There’s a noise from outside, an angry shout and then another, and Emma stands, relieved at the distraction. “That’ll be the angry mob, then.” 

 

“Snow says not to let them kill Regina,” Neal informs her, and she gives him a dark look and throws the front door open.

 

There’s no mob. 

 

What there is is a sword fight going on in earnest on Regina’s front lawn. 

 

Emma stares. Lancelot is slashing outward as Milah parries, Belle shouting, “Stop! Stop this!” and Mulan and the Merry Men all with their weapons out. “We’re allies!” Belle shouts to them.

 

“We were,” Mulan says, pointing her sword at Belle. “But if the queen is holding Emma–“ 

 

“Uh.” Emma says, stepping out the door. All eyes turn to her in relief and– amusement, from the pirate. “I’m here.” 

 

“I’m not holding anyone,” says a sleek voice behind her, and Emma stumbles forward, away from Regina as she strides to the front of the porch. “Watch the begonias, please.” Regina stares them down like she doesn’t have a band on her arm that makes her powerless, and it works.

 

Lancelot sheathes his sword, climbing the steps in two strides to wrap Emma in his arms. “We’ve been searching for you,” he rumbles. 

 

She hugs him back, more relieved at the sight of him and the others than she cares to admit. Without the Merry Men, she’s on her own, helpless without allies who belong solely to her. With them, she feels like she _belongs_ again– and not in the nightmarish way that her clothing in Regina’s drawers implies– and she breathes fresh air and clasps Lancelot’s wrist for the comfort it brings her. 

 

She turns– and it’s just in time to see Milah climb up the stairs and kiss Regina squarely on the lips. “A pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty,” she says, grinning. 

 

Emma’s eyes narrow, a surge of– _something–_ hot and furious at her throat as Regina rolls her eyes at Milah almost fondly. “Captain,” she says, inclining her head.

 

They all traipse inside, Regina wincing at the dirt that the Merry Men track in, and Emma shows them to the white couches in the office and smiles at Regina’s wince. “Must you?” she mutters.

 

Emma scoffs. “Oh, like your girlfriend is much cleaner? Better dirt than fish,” she says snidely, and turns back to the room. “Relax. Put up your feet,” she encourages them, and Will winks at her and props his filthy boots up onto the arm of the couch.

 

Regina eyes her with mingled speculativeness and irritation, and Emma brushes past her to sit beside Mulan on the opposite couch. “You don’t remember anything either,” Regina says, turning to Mulan as though she knows she’ll get a straight answer from her.

 

She’s correct, of course. “Last I remember was Emma losing control of Rocinante as that purple smoke swept over the land.” 

 

“Rocinante,” Regina repeats. Emma glares at a footprint on Will’s couch and avoids her gaze altogether. Mulan and Lancelot share equally ambiguous looks. 

 

“I was there, too,” Neal puts in. “We rode a different way and joined a caravan headed toward your castle. A short while later, you and Emma and Snow all rejoined the caravan. I took off after that, when I’d heard that…” He gives a quick, uncomfortable jerk of his head to his mother. 

 

Emma turns to her, distrustful. “And you conveniently received a message telling you to come back here.” 

 

“That’s right. Yesterday afternoon.” Milah lounges against the wall beside the fireplace, with all the comfort of someone who’s been here before. And been at home then, too. Emma’s eyes narrow. “Whoever it was seemed to know that the curse was coming soon. It was very important to them that the lad and the prince be returned here when it did.” 

 

“Imagine that.” Emma stares very deliberately at Regina. Regina avoids her gaze. “And you have no idea who this woman is.” 

 

“None.” 

 

“Really. You’ve been around…hundreds of years? Traveled all the realms? And some stranger shows up with a magic bean and you don’t question her or it?” 

 

“Emma,” Neal cuts in, earnest as he can muster. “Emma, she gave us a chance to _help_. To see Henry again. Of course we questioned it, but we weren’t about to hesitate on that one.” 

 

Milah says, rolling her eyes, “She won’t be satisfied with that, Baelfire. Your Swan Hood appears to have other reasons for doubting me.” Her voice lowers to throaty levels of suggestiveness.

 

Emma’s jaw works under her skin. “Attempted murder?” 

 

“Ah, you’re jealous!” Milah says, amused as she parses it together. “What a treat!” 

 

“I’m not jealous,” Emma’s quick to deny. 

 

Milah cocks an eyebrow, swoops down in a swift movement, and presses her lips against Emma’s very surprised “mmph!” 

 

“There,” she says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve said hello to you, too. You’re both frightfully monogamous, aren’t you? _Dull_.” She raises her eyes to where Regina is glaring at her, looking no less than murderous. Regina glances down and catches Emma’s wide eyes, and they both duck their heads, abashed.

 

Neal sounds pained. “Mama, that’s the mother of my child. _Both_ of them, actually.” 

 

Will snickers, but his eyes are wary as he takes in the room around them. Mulan sighs and Lancelot puts an arm around her on the couch to rest a comforting hand on Emma’s shoulder. Emma stares at Will’s footprint some more. 

 

Belle clears her throat. She’s been sitting patiently in a chair at the corner of the room, Neal hovering behind her and Milah’s eyes flying to her every few moments. Whatever their pirate team’s allegiances, they seem most protective of Belle, and Emma trusts her enough to trust them a tiny bit more.

 

She smiles at Belle and Belle smiles back tentatively. “What we need to figure out is who had access to a magic bean. Those are all gone, aren’t they?” 

 

“The Blue Fairy gave me one when I was a boy,” Neal offers. “But this wasn’t her.” 

 

“Squeakier voice,” Belle agrees. “Kind of breathy.”

 

“And she had a _wand_ ,” Milah says, lip curling in distaste. “Like a child’s dress-up. She left a trail of glitter on my deck.” 

 

Lancelot asks another question, but Emma’s eyes have drifted to Regina, still suspicious. Regina’s brow is furrowed and she looks to be in deep thought, but she doesn’t offer anything else for the duration of the conversation.

 

“No angry mobs?” Emma wonders as the others begin to shift in their seats. 

 

“The curse started early,” Belle says thoughtfully. “People woke up and wanted coffee, not murder. And no one wanted to leave Storybrooke, anyway. Regina did us a favor this time around.” She must not know the cost of the curse, because there are no curious glances in the room, just acceptance. 

 

When Regina speaks up, she seems to have surrendered the moot urge to deny it, anyway. “I’ll have the sheriff call a town meeting to assure everyone that he’s looking into our missing time. Do you have a place to stay?” The question is directed to the four Merry Men still on her couches, and even Will straightens at the Evil Queen talking to him.

 

“We woke up in a set of cabins in the woods out here,” he says, and hurries to add, “Your Majesty.” 

 

Regina looks pleased at the honorific. “Then the curse has provided for the new citizens,” she says, nodding to herself. Will beams right back at her. It occurs to Emma that this is the first time that her Merry Men have been exposed to Regina in a non-battle setting, and they all look caught between obstinate on her behalf and awestruck…also probably on her behalf. 

 

“I’m still staying here,” Emma says grimly. Regina walks to her and Emma stiffens, feeling new currents of fear race through her at the other woman’s proximity.

 

“Very well,” Regina says, and she watches Emma with an opaque gaze.

 

* * *

 

The Merry Men and Milah’s crew traipse out together, Milah offering drinks to them all and receiving whoops in response. They’re all getting along, and Emma bids them farewell and promises to meet up with them in the morning. _I’m keeping Regina here under house arrest_ , she says, and ignores their knowing glances.

 

They don’t know anything. They’re caught up in silly fairytales as Emma herself had once been, and they believe still in a love that contains legends. She doesn’t dare explain to them how far Swan Hood and the Evil Queen have fallen from legend.

 

When they’re gone, the sky is growing dark and Regina says, “I’ll put something together for dinner.” 

 

Emma says, “What about Henry?”

 

“I’ll talk to David and we’ll meet Henry in the morning,” Regina murmurs, longing in her eyes tempered only with caution. “You need more time to adjust.” She opens a pantry and that big two-doored closet to reveal a cool, food-filled second pantry. “You can go get some air.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma demands, still on edge around her. Now that even Neal is gone, the house is beginning to feel dark and restricting, massive and still a cage around her locking her inside with Regina.

 

“It means you still flinch every time I come near you,” Regina says curtly. “We don’t need Henry to see that or ask about it.” She busies herself with her pantries, yanking out ingredients and mixing thick cheeses and sauces together in a bowl. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never thought of Swan Hood as so easily terrified.” 

 

_Of all the less-than-complimentary things I’ve thought of you over the years, I’d never imagined you were a coward._

 

Emma jerks, hearing the words in Regina’s voice, biting and vicious. She takes a step back, and Regina misunderstands. “I’m not threatening you,” she says with weary resignation, gesturing to the stove she’s just turned on. “This is a pilot flame. It stays restricted to the stove. We use pots on it, not a roasting spit and a slab of meat.” 

 

“I _have_ been in a kitchen before.” Emma is adrift again, fighting queasiness in her stomach and the frantic beating of her heart. “I used to sneak through yours all the time. I didn’t know you’d ever cooked before this place.” 

 

“I hadn’t,” Regina admits. “I learned for Henry. This is lasagna. Kind of a…tried-and-true dish of mine.” She drops long, flat pieces of pasta into the pot on the stove. “I can show you how…” Her voice trails off and Emma notices abruptly that she’s taken a step forward without realizing it. Her hands are on Regina’s hair and Regina is staring at her past them, her face bare and vulnerable. 

 

Emma struggles to explain herself and comes up blank. “It’s shorter,” she says dumbly. It _is_ , full and straight as it had never been in the Enchanted Forest, falling in a gentle wave to her shoulders. It lends a different air to Regina altogether, more of the girl who’d worn it loose and less of the queen who’d kept it tightly wound around her like an elaborate shield. 

 

Regina with her hair like this is the Regina of the nursery, of nights spent curled beside her, whispering secrets and dreams into each other’s ears. Emma’s seen it all day but only now– in a kitchen at the end of the day as though they’re… _family, home,_ a dozen long-rejected names for whatever they’ve become– does it strike her so clearly that Regina is someone else entirely in this land.

 

“I’ll go…get that air,” Emma says, and she makes a hasty exit toward the front door.

 

She circles the house to the yard and nearly makes a break for the woods that surround it, sliding to the ground and staring up at the night sky. There are crickets chirping around her, the sounds of rustling as animals move through the night, and Emma stares up at unfamiliar constellations and breathes easily for the first time today.

 

The indoors here is sterile and silent, free of the freedom of the woods that Emma’s been surrounded by all her life, and she feels like she’s suffocating in the bright lights and the hums of _electricity_ , whatever the hell that is. And, of course, the woman who rules within that house is equally as daunting and frustrating a cipher as any magical marvels of this world.

 

Even the woods aren’t far enough from Regina, and Emma stands again and breaks into a run, tracking movements and asking questions of passersby until she’s made it to a nondescript square of a building. There’s a ladder to the side of it, stretching up along the windows, and Emma clambers up it until she looks into one window and sees Snow and David and Henry seated around a table. 

 

They’re eating too, and she nearly knocks on the window before she second-guesses herself. She doesn’t know Henry yet. And a part of her is still terrified of getting any closer, of making another connection only to lose him again, and she still can’t quite reassure herself that any of this isn’t a dream. That they aren’t apart anymore, that she can wake up in the morning and walk down a few roads and find her son waiting for her. That a decade of desperate longing is _over_.

 

She backs away and stumbles back to Regina’s house, sinking down to sit against a tree in the woods and watch through the window at the figure moving inside. And then there’s Regina, who seems just as lost around Henry now as she does. Which… _good_ , she deserves no less, even if she is telling the truth about not taking him in the first place. Regina has inflicted enough pain on everyone to get her comeuppance now, no matter how minor it is in the end.

 

Emma’s skin is still crawling from this morning, and she scrapes at it now uncertainly. The pieces all add up to Regina having done all of this, Regina as the caster of the curse who’d done something to Emma’s heart to cast it, Regina essentially muzzled with that cuff on her wrist. Regina had…seduced her and then taken her heart for the curse, maybe? Threatened her and then taken advantage of her? She doesn’t know Regina’s limits anymore. She doesn’t even recognize the Regina in an immaculate house without ostentation who's afraid to speak to their son.

 

A noise breaks her out of her reverie and she jolts, staring up in alarm. Something is in the trees. 

 

It’s making a leathery flapping noise and its shadow is _huge_ , much larger than any bat or owl, and Emma moves swiftly, finding thin branches in the dark and putting together a makeshift bow as she has dozens of times before. Her fingers still remember how to lace the thinnest branch to a thicker one, to sharpen the point of an arrow, and there’s a reassuring familiarity to it.

 

Her predator becomes her prey; her forest is her home; and she fires at the creature with a surge of renewed confidence, finally _herself_. 

 

The creature explodes in a smoky burst of white. Emma doesn’t know if that’s natural or unnatural in this world, but she dusts off her hands and tucks the makeshift bow under her arm, turning to stroll back into the house at last.

 

Regina isn’t in the kitchen anymore, and Emma rounds a corner with a little less trepidation than before and finds her on her knees in front of the couches in the office, scrubbing furiously at the stains that Will’s boots had left there. 

 

Emma has been a frenetic force of energy since she’d gotten here, wild and terror-stricken and violently so; but Regina has been calm, contained even in her heartbreak. It’s a shock to see her this way now, frantic as she scrubs and pauses every few moments to yank at the cuff on her wrist, and she’s trembling with every moment, no longer restrained at all. 

 

She yanks at the cuff again and slams a hand against the sofa when she peels away a rag and the dirt remains, grinding out a cry of frustration. She's unaware of Emma behind her. 

 

Emma swallows, feeling sudden guilt at Regina’s distress. It had only been a spiteful move, making _something_ in the pristine room less than perfect, but it’s enough to have Regina falling to pieces over it. (But this is the first time all day that Regina had been alone, hasn’t it? Her solitude is her freedom to express herself, as it always has been. Emma had just been allowed to witness it, once.) She bites her lip and then reaches for a second rag in the pail of cleaning fluid, dabbing it at another stain on the couch.

 

Regina looks up, startled. “I thought you’d gone out.” 

 

“I did.” Emma watches as Regina's fingers tug at the cuff, again and again, leaving sore redness behind. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

 

“Sorry.” Regina scrapes again at the dirt. “I just…I want thestains off my couch and I don’t have any magic and I hate this _damned cuff_ so much, Emma. I hate–” She gulps in a breath and Emma gapes at her, stunned by her… _vulnerability_. Regina is angry and afraid, maybe just as afraid as Emma, and she hasn’t bent for an instant all day until now. 

 

“That cuff was used on you before,” she guesses.

 

“I pulled at it until my fingers bled,” Regina whispers, her eyes still fixed on the stain on the couch. “I scraped off all the skin from my wrist and when they finally tied me down to that table it was a relief, in a sense. I couldn’t fight anymore.” She laughs bitterly. “Except I could talk back, so I suppose I never did stop fighting.” 

 

A thought occurs to her, a memory still fresh in her mind even though there’s a gulf of missing memories between it and now. Neal’s explanation of where he’d been before he’d fallen into a portal and wound up at the Dark Castle. “You were tortured. That’s why they put it on.” 

 

Regina looks up at her with brown eyes rimmed with red. “I’m sure you think I deserved it.” 

 

“I don’t know what you deserve,” is the only response Emma can give to that. Regina sags.

 

And then, another admission. “I thought of you when it hurt the most. Of what I’d done to you for coming back.” Regina’s eyes are daring her to respond, to agree, and Emma remembers the year of Regina in exile and Henry in the woods with her. She remembers chasing Thea to the castle and being caught, being wrapped in violent electricity in agony, helpless and in more pain than she’s ever been in her life.

 

She tries to summon up outrage and vindictive agreement and finds that she can’t against Regina now, still scrabbling at the cuff as though it’s forcing her into those memories. “I don’t know what you want from me, Regina. I’m…I’m trapped here in a land I _never_ wanted to see, and with you– and I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore. I am terrified,” she admits. “I’m terrified all the time.” 

 

Regina doesn’t answer, but her hand slides out to cover Emma’s and Emma pulls away automatically. Regina’s brow furrows. There’s a loud _ding_ from the kitchen and they both jump. “That’s the lasagna,” Regina says hastily. “I’ll go take it out of the oven.” 

 

She vanishes from the room and Emma sinks to the floor again, weary with the combination of emotions that Regina forces from her. Longing, always longing, and caution just as strong. Bewilderment, because she doesn’t grasp this Regina at all. Compassion. Emma will always feel compassion for Regina because it’s who they _both_ are, no matter how easily she’d tried to kill Regina earlier that day.

 

And then– terror, ever-present. She doesn’t know what she’s afraid of but she’s as panicked by Regina as Regina is by that cuff, two unobtrusive cages holding them prisoner in no tangible way. And Emma has only nine months of blank memories to comfort her.

 

Her hand slips under the couch and hits a long, hard rectangle. She pulls it out, blinking down at it with confusion. It’s just a series of neatly marked buttons, and Emma has no idea what any of the letters on it mean. _AUX, DVD, VOL, CH_ – it’s in a language beyond her, and she hits a few of them at once as a window across the room blares to life.

 

“Wha–“ There are _people_ in it, moving as though they’re being held captive inside it, and Emma hits another button and scrambles back as Regina’s face fills the window. _Oh_. Not a prison, some kind of magic mirror. Regina in the mirror is speaking sharply, but her eyes are bright as she orders the room, “Make sure you’re getting Henry in the video, too. Today isn’t about _me_.” 

 

She bends and lifts– _oh,_ Emma nearly sobs– a tiny Henry from the ground, just how Emma remembers him. His face is a little rounder and older, his clothes are the style that is favored here, but he’s just a child in this vision, at most a year older than he’d been when Emma had seen him last.

 

_Exactly_ a year, she realizes a moment later, when Princess Abigail breezes into the room with a few toddlers in tow and says, “Happy birthday, Henry!” Henry beams up at her with a toothy smile and Regina beams at him with all the love in the universe for their tiny boy.

 

The view moves jerkily, swinging around to focus on other children playing with Henry and Henry with a little cone-shaped cap on, Henry with a cake emblazoned with a birthday message for him, Henry running wild through the house without a care for cleanliness or order.

 

And Regina is everywhere, too, watching over Henry with unfettered delight in her eyes, absolutely charmed by everything he does. She vanishes into the kitchen and returns to the mirror’s view holding a thick candle in a glass, and when Henry blows out the candles for his birthday cake, Regina sets the glass candle down on the mantle and for a moment, the joy fades from her face as she stares into it, pensive.

 

“I lit the candle for you every year,” Regina murmurs from the doorway. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’d never intended for you to be separated from him.” 

 

“Was I supposed to live in this house with you? Your little wife?” Emma asks bitterly, but in the light that the mirror casts over her, it comes out small and wanting instead. 

 

“No.” Regina sits beside her, adjusting the rectangle so the sound that emerges from the mirror is clearer. “No, you weren’t. Emma–“ She inhales sharply and then stops speaking at once.

 

Emma waits, her eyes on Henry and Regina on the screen as she spins in circles with Henry ensconced in her arms until they both drop to the ground, Regina laughing helplessly as Henry pounces on her with sloppy kisses.

 

Regina says, “If something was done to you, we’ll find out what it is.” 

 

“What?”

 

Regina stares at the mirror. “What you said before. You’ve consistently been the…the boldest, most outrageously reckless person I’ve ever known. If you’re this afraid– of this world or of me– I can’t imagine that it’s natural. If it was taken from you in the missing time or if it’s only now that you have that missing time that it registers so strongly, we’ll find out.”

 

Emma gapes at her, staggered at the pronouncement. And most of all, what she can feel at it is _relief_. Relief at the assurance that there _is_ something wrong with her beyond just her heart, that she’s been changed somehow in their missing time and can feel it innately now. 

 

And then, that same fear again, creeping back up through her. “Except…you had something to do with it, didn’t you?” She remembers the echo of Regina’s voice, the scornful _I’d never imagined you were a coward_ , and it still feels real. “I can feel it.” 

 

Regina shakes her head, and Emma barrels onward before she can be cut off. “Whenever we’re close like this, my heart stops beating wrong.” It beats in time with Regina’s heart, steady and warming, and Emma flushes and hates what it means. “You _did_ this. You cast your curse and fucked me up somehow and you can’t just…promise to find my courage when you’re the one who took it from me in the first place.” 

 

“I didn’t cast the curse,” Regina whispers. “I’m not that person anymore.” The Regina in the mirror curls her hands around the glass of the candle and stares into it, joy fading into somberness. Henry tugs at her skirt and she forces a smile and turns to him.

 

“And what would losing Henry do to you?” Emma demands, unable to tear her eyes from them. “What would you have become without him?” She can still hear the sizzle of electricity around her, still see the scorching eyes boring into her as she screams outside Regina’s castle.

 

Regina is silent.

 

In the mirror, Regina kneels beside Henry and leans forward, whispering three words into his ear that Emma can read on her lips.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Regina is glancing at her every so often, watchful and conscientious, and Emma tightens her grip on the seat and says irritably, “I’m _fine_. This is no different than any other carriage.”

 

It’s three days into her time in Storybrooke, and Emma has finally been forced into this… _death machine._ She’s avoided it the rest of the time, insisted that she can find the forest just fine on her own and can make her way into town without a problem, but the water is just too far away to travel without a horse.

“I can slow down if you want.” The… _car_ , Regina had called it…is still moving too fast, and Emma sucks in a breath as they careen around another corner.

 

“I don’t care,” Emma mutters, spotting another red octagon in the distance. She’s careful to keep her sigh of relief as inaudible as she can manage. Regina still hears it, if the way she presses her lips together to keep from smiling is any indication. Emma glowers. “You know, if this _car_ wasn’t so impractically long, I wouldn’t have a problem with it at all.” She points up ahead to the cars in front of the docks. “See that one? Small and compact. I bet it wouldn’t crash into corners like yours does.” 

 

“I don’t _crash_ into–“ Regina begins, and deflates just as quickly. “Never mind.” She quirks an eyebrow. “That’s a Beetle, actually.” 

 

“ _What?_ ” 

 

“Volkswagon Beetle. It’s a kind of car. Your Beetle, I’m sure, is safe at the stables. This one is Neal’s.” And sure enough, after an agonizing period of nearly bumping into the walking path while Regina “parks,” Henry and Neal emerge from the docks to meet them.

 

Neal isn’t joining them today. “I want to be Henry's dad for as long as he's okay with it,” he’d said when he’d suggested the outing. “But this…this _family_ unit? That’s the three of you, and you guys need to figure it out on your own.” So he’s deliberately not coming along, even though Milah and Belle are still sailing the Jolly Roger for them.

 

Emma staggers out of the car and vomits onto the ground in front of Henry. Henry says, “Ew.” 

 

“She gets carsick,” Regina offers, reaching into the back compartment of the car to find a water bottle from the icebox she’d packed up earlier.

 

“She drives like she’s trying to _kill_ me,” Emma protests. 

 

"She was going, like, fifteen miles per hour." Henry studies them in the way he's prone to, taking their measure and giving away none of his findings. He might not have his memories, but there's still a quality to him that is unmistakably Regina.

 

Over the past few days, he’s done a lot of that staring. They can’t give him all the answers that he wants and he _knows_ it, can see it in their eyes and their reluctance when he suggests even leaving the house. Emma has gone out with him once or twice, venturing to the Merry Men or into the tavern that Granny runs here, but Regina hadn’t left the house once until today.

 

Which they’d agreed was for the best. The house is attacked sporadically– they’d had to call Geppetto for help repairing two windows and an angry villager had broken in last night and met the business end of Emma’s bow– and Regina in town might be faced with even worse. Henry can’t see it. Henry can’t know about any of this right now or he might run screaming from them, and so they tiptoe around the topic of _why_ until they’d had no choice but to arrange a family outing.

 

And they’ll do it on Milah’s ship, where no one can attack them or question them or point out the truth to Henry. Of course, Milah is wearing that damned hook again, and Henry is eyeing it with apprehension as they board the ship.

 

“Steady,” Regina cautions Emma. She's holding an enormous icebox that Regina calls a _cooler_ , packed to the brim with more food than any of them could eat in a day. “Don’t trip.” 

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” But she doesn’t say anything more cutting than that, not with Henry around. That’s another thing they’re _not telling_ , nothing about the tension between his mothers or the thousand pounds of baggage they’ve hauled with them into his life. Emma thinks he might know anyway, if only because of the way his brow creases when they’re trying to be friendly. 

 

His brow furrows again now and Regina nudges her reprovingly. The cooler flies to the ground and crashes open, and Regina’s hands shoot out automatically, fingers stretching toward the cooler as though she can stop it with her magic. Instead, the contents spill out of it and Regina closes her fingers around the cuff on her wrist and hisses, “ _Damn, damn, damn,”_ as Belle and Emma rush to collect it.

 

Henry kneels down beside them, eyes flickering to Regina, and Regina drops her hands and stares darkly into the ocean. “What’s this?” Henry wonders, lifting up a heavy book that had slid out of the cooler. Embossed on the cover is _Once Upon a Time_ , and Emma recognizes it only by Snow’s stories.

 

“It’s an old family book. Mary Margaret brought it over this morning,” Regina says, her gaze still on the water instead of them. “I thought your other mother might like to look through it today.” 

 

“Can I–“ 

 

“No!” they both bark out, and Henry blinks up at them in hurt confusion. 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Emma says gently. With David busy with Mary Margaret and midwives and helping the sheriff at the station, Henry’s been very much alone in this world. They’re terrified of pushing him too far, giving him too much, and losing him irrevocably in the process. “Maybe someday, though.” 

 

Henry scowls at the floor. “Okay,” he mutters, and then catches sight of something that makes him brighten. “Is that root beer?”

 

Root beer is…not bad, Emma concedes, and Regina and Henry down their bottles with equal gusto. There’s also watermelon and some kind of complex fried potato dish that Henry declares the _best food he’s ever tasted_ while Regina beams with secretive pride. It’s peaceful out here, quiet and simple, and Emma feels free for the first time since they’d gotten here.

 

Regina is still a wildcard and Emma stiffens every time her arm brushes against Emma’s, but this also feels kind of like a family again, like months spent in Regina’s castle without any intruders present. “Tell me about your friends,” Regina asks, her eyes alight with adoration as Henry speaks. “Which extracurriculars does your school offer?” Regina asks, hanging onto every word. Regina asks about _baseball_ and _comics_ and a dozen things that Emma’s never heard of before.

 

For her part, Emma mostly listens. She doesn’t know what she has to offer Henry– not without knowledge of this world or knowledge of _him_ , of what makes him enthusiastic and what has him soaking in Regina’s comments. She’s an outsider here, an intruder who hasn't been a part of their family in a decade, and she bites back resentment for it and struggles to follow the conversation instead.

 

Regina’s fingers curl and uncurl where they lie between her own legs and Emma's; as though she can’t decide whether or not a reassuring squeeze of Emma’s thigh would be welcome. Emma herself doesn’t know, and she’s frail and defiant at once with frustration.

 

“Ma?” Henry says, and it’s only then that Emma realizes that she looks as perturbed as she feels. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Of course. I want to hear all about you,” she says, meaning every word. “I’m just a little out of touch, I guess.”

 

Henry frowns. “Were you in another country or something while you were gone?” 

 

“Traipsing through the woods, more like,” Regina murmurs. “ _Peasant._ ” 

 

But it’s quick and affectionate, Regina’s guard down for a moment and Emma can’t hold back the smile in time. It’s awkward and tentative, and Emma cuts it off at once and turns back to Henry.

 

Henry, who’s eyeing them again like they’re a mystery to be solved, and he says, “So how’d you meet?” 

 

“What?” 

 

He shrugs. “I know I have…a dad, obviously, but he isn’t a part of…” He waves at the two of them. _This family._ “Were you…together before I was born?”

 

They exchange a tired glance, and this time Emma can’t look away without setting off warning bells with their son. Regina still has her caught in her gaze, uncertain and burdened, when Emma says, “Well, I accidentally kidnapped her.” 

 

Regina barks out a startled laugh. “You did, didn’t you?” She tears her eyes from Emma to face Henry. “She had a whole bit about robbing the rich to give to the poor.” She rolls her eyes. “Her friend…broke into my mother’s car and tried driving off with it without either of them noticing that I was in the backseat.”

 

Finding that memory again is like trudging through decades of quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper into it until she’s drowning in what is uniquely  _Regina_. “Your mom bailed me out of there before Cora– before your grandmother caught us.” She remembers the moment and Regina’s startled gasp of _You’re a girl?_ and she remembers when they’d talked about this last, remembers being propped up on a bed with a new baby in her arms and… “You had good eyes,” she repeats, an echo of times long gone.

 

Said eyes are cloudy and regretful as they meet hers again, and Emma reminds herself a dozen times of who Regina has become before she pulls away from her.

 

Henry is eating watermelon, bite after bite after bite as he regards them, and then he asks solemnly, “Was it love at first sight?” 

 

“No,” Emma says, just as Regina says, “Yes.” 

 

“No?” Regina repeats, looking suddenly uncertain.

 

“Yes?” Emma whispers, and her stomach roils painfully in response.

 

Henry leans back against the wall that juts out around the deck. Emma says, “You always said–“

 

“I was…not ready to love again,” Regina admits. “But you stayed with me for a long time.”

 

“I did spend an unhealthy amount of time harassing you at your cas– your house,” Emma agrees wryly.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” There’s a shine to Regina’s eyes now when she talks about who they’d been, as though she’s floating through it while Emma’s mired in quicksand below, flailing deeper and deeper into blackness with every moment that passes. 

 

_Typical_ , Emma thinks, and feels sick about it. “Listen, I’m…uh…” They both stare at her, her shadowed-eyed, inquisitive family whom she’s worlds apart from now. “I’m going to check out that book,” she whispers, and shifts away from them to the ground beside the cooler.

 

She stares blankly at the first page, listening to Henry as he says to Regina, “So you were in love. I didn’t think…I kind of thought you were pretending for my sake.” He taps the tips of his toes against the deck.

 

Regina says, “There was a war on when you were a baby, and we were on opposite sides. Eventually, Emma decided that I wasn’t capable of raising you and she took you away from me.” Emma’s fingers tense against the page. She isn’t going to be painted the villain because of that, not after _ten years of penance._

 

She peers up at them and sees Henry’s brow furrowed. “Was she right?”

 

“Yes,” Regina says, and Emma’s hands loosen and fall from the book into her lap. “It caused quite the rift at the time.” She slides a hand into Henry’s, her eyes flitting back to Emma. “But none of that matters now that you’re here with us and that war is over. You’re our priority, and that isn’t going to change even if we aren’t together.”

 

She’s right. Of course she’s right, and they’ve made it work in far less ideal circumstances than these– these, where the only villain to worry about in town is Regina herself, and she’s been nothing less than muted in the past few days, acerbic tongue the only part of her that still burns. And yet there’s a a finality to it, a concession that it _won’t_ be them ever again, no matter how bright Regina’s eyes burn when she talks about them being in love.

 

_Good_. Emma’s done with Regina, with betrayals and losses and last year haunting her like a mystery. She glares down at the open page of the book, angry without any valid reason for it, and then she freezes.

 

The picture on the page is of _them_ , of Emma and Regina and Quinn riding through the woods to the Dark Castle. Snow had talked about the book as some kind of record of their history but she hadn’t expected it to be about _her_ , only the great wars that Snow White and Queen Regina had waged.

 

But it’s an entire book about her– about Snow, yes, but Emma is as much the protagonist of it as Snow is. Henry had gotten this book and seen his mother as a heroic figure, noble thief and warrior for good. The book is effusive about painting her as a hero or a victim, nothing in between. 

 

And Regina is the villain.

 

Emma flips through the pages, disbelieving, but not a single story paints the Evil Queen in a favorable light. Regina is her nemesis, her feared master, the kidnapper of her child. Regina is evil without pause. The book twists and weaves its way through Emma’s story at the expense of Regina’s, and never does it give Regina reprieve.

 

They’d never been enemies in reality. _Never_ , not when Regina had hated her and Emma had still loved her with sheer exhaustion. There had been a time when there had been a less-than-friendly rivalry between them, but never had this kind of mutual loathing existed between them– not even now, when Regina seems to have tired of resentment and offered her kindness instead. But this narrative seems dead-set on stripping away the love that had powered their story throughout all their years and leaving behind only an emotionless story of good versus evil. It’s simplistic and it’s infuriating and Emma thinks with horror of Henry opening this book as a ten-year-old and being conditioned to believe it’s true.

 

“No,” she whispers, jerking back to face Regina and Henry. But they’re gone. Milah is showing Henry how to draw in the sails and Regina is watching them, her arms folded and her fingers absentmindedly yanking at the magic cuff in the nervous habit she’s picked up. 

 

Watching her now, she feels the compassion welling up, the outrage at the book and the war it had drafted Henry into. It isn’t fair– not to either of them. Henry deserves the truth. Regina deserves–

 

She buries her face in her hands, a fat droplet of rain landing on the book as she does, and then there’s a gentle voice in front of her. “Seasick?” Belle says it knowingly. “I spent half my first trip on the Jolly Roger with my head in a bucket.” 

 

Emma shakes her head. “No. I can handle a ship. I just…” She smiles up at her, quick and grateful. “You know that without you, Henry wouldn’t even be here.” 

 

Belle nods. “I didn’t realize then who he was, but I imagine…a much darker outcome for us all if you’d never escaped to Regina. No matter the price I paid for it.”

 

“The price you paid?” Emma’s blood runs cold. “The Dark One didn’t–“ 

 

“No,” Belle says at once. “No, he didn’t punish me for it. But your return did reveal to Regina that he had a weakness.” 

 

“She took you.” Emma flips through the pages of the book again until she finds Belle, locked in a cage as she shouts threats at Regina. “Oh, _hell_.” 

 

“I didn’t know then that you were hiding Neal’s son from Rumple,” Belle interjects. “I was Regina’s bargaining chip for Henry’s safety. I’m a little more understanding now.” She doesn’t quite look at Regina with trust, but it isn’t distrust, either. “And she truly has changed.” 

 

Now she’s watching Emma instead of Regina and Emma can feel the claustrophobia rising again, the uncertainty and the pressure of _believing in Regina_ that suffuses every conversation she has with Snow or Regina herself. She isn’t ready for that. Regina doesn’t _want_ it, she knows, if only from the resolution in Regina's voice as she tells Henry that they’ll be his mothers regardless.

 

A light drizzle begins on the deck and Belle calls, “Milah! Are we bringing the ship in?” 

 

“Now?” Milah frowns at her from her spot halfway up the mast, Henry scampering behind her. “Why would we–“

 

The sky seems to darken in an instant, a bright rainbow stretching across it, and then the rain comes pouring down, heavy and rapid and unrelenting. Milah shouts, wrapping a hand around Henry before he can fall, and she begins to ease them both down.

 

Emma can’t see anything through thick sheets of rain. “Henry!” she shouts. “Regina!” There’s nothing but Belle, quick and agile, sprinting across the deck to take in the sails.

 

“What is this?” Milah roars over the storm. “This isn’t natural!” The rainbow is still bright above them, shining as though it’s just decoration, and Emma struggles to find her feet and stagger up. The rain beats against her back with unstoppable force and she slides instead down to the deck, smashing her head against the seat.

 

“Henry,” she groans, grabbing hold of the seat and hoisting herself up. The ship is rocking in the waves as though it might tilt over, and Emma drags herself to the closest sail and attempts to climb it. 

 

Instead, she has the prime position to see Milah slip from her descent. Henry jerks and Belle lets out a scream, and Regina hurtles forward to them. Milah catches Henry but Regina is swept to the side in a gust of wind and toppled overboard. “Regina!” she shouts, swinging around to spot Henry. He’s securely wrapped in Milah’s arms, Belle retrieving him and herding him belowdecks, and Emma breaths a sigh of relief and then leaps overboard after Regina.

 

“Regi– mmph–“ The waves are lapping furiously around her, the calm waters of just minutes before gone. Emma doesn’t know how storms work in this land, if they’re always so sudden and always accompanied by an unnaturally bright rainbow, but she doesn’t have time to contemplate it now. Not when Regina’s bobbing in and out of view a few feet away.

 

Emma swims hard against the wind, gasping out water and reaching desperately forward. “Regina!” she manages. Regina isn’t moving her limbs, just rocking in the water, and as Emma gets closer, she finally sees why.

 

She’s dazed, her legs still, but one hand is furiously yanking at the cuff on the other. “I can’t–“ she says breathlessly when Emma catches up to her. “I can’t get us out of…without…” Her eyes flicker shut.

 

_No._ They aren’t going to die like this, in a freak storm with their son so close. Emma wraps her fingers around Regina’s wrist, too, kicking frantically to keep them afloat as she attempts to peel the cuff off.

 

“Needs…” Regina chokes. “Magic…” Her fingers drop at last, and Emma seizes her by the waist, pulling her close before she’s swept off into the undertow. 

 

And then, _finally_ , a rope appears out of nowhere, the ship circling back around for them. Emma grabs it, pulling Regina up with her, and Regina holds on weakly as they’re hauled back onto the Jolly Roger.

 

The sky brightens as quickly as it had darkened, the rainbow still below it, and Milah leans against the mainmast and scowls. “That wasn’t natural,” she repeats. “Someone in this town is using magic to try to kill us.” 

 

“Then why’d they stop?” Emma is still clinging to Regina, arms tight around her middle as Regina coughs up water onto the deck.

 

“Exactly seven minutes,” Regina manages. “Seven-minute storm. That’s the duration of a good temporary spell.” 

 

“You think this is next-level vandalism?” 

 

Regina sags, her head dropping to Emma’s chest, and Emma shivers and reminds herself that this is just temporary support. She isn’t letting Henry lose his mother over her own resentment. And she’s only brushing Regina’s hair back so she won’t spit out sea water all over it and be insufferable the whole way home.

 

“It isn’t your problem,” Milah says kindly. For all her smug flirting, she does seem genuinely affectionate around Regina. “They never wanted to leave here, anyway. You did them a favor, bringing them back.” 

 

Regina scoffs, but her energy wanes as she curls into Emma’s embrace.

 

* * *

 

They’re still wet and shivering in towels when they make it to dry land, Regina still shaky and Henry holding their hands protectively. “That was a weird storm, right?” he says. 

 

“This is Maine. We get some like that,” Regina says.

 

Henry doesn’t look convinced. “We were…what, a half mile out? And look.” He points down at the wooden planks of the docks. “The wood is still light here. It’s all dry. Which means that the rain didn’t even make it here.” He frowns. “You don’t think there’s anything funny about it?” 

 

“No,” Emma says quickly. The kid is too smart for his own good, and she’s caught between pride and aggravation about it. “Storms are kind of fickle sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” 

 

“Okay.” But he looks almost disappointed in them waving it off, and he drags his feet a little and drops their hands. Emma looks at Regina for guidance. Regina purses her lips and says nothing.

 

They call Neal on Regina’s phone and have him come get Henry, promising to meet again for dinner, but Regina’s reluctant to have Henry present when there might be someone targeting her. “His safety comes first,” she says softly, the lines of her face deep and bereft.

 

“Yeah,” Emma echoes, kicking at the railing around the docks. “Yeah, it does.” If she trusted Regina, she’d leave her to deal with her own mess and run off with Henry. But she doesn’t. And besides, Regina had just nearly _drowned_ and someone should probably make sure she doesn’t keel over dead or…something.

 

She lets out a sigh of defeat and says, “So the book, huh?”

 

“The book,” Regina agrees. “That’s how Henry found out the truth the first time around.”

 

“I don’t want him to see it ever again.” She grinds her teeth and Regina stares at her with startled, gratified eyes. “Who the hell wrote that biased piece of…?”

 

“I don’t know,” Regina murmurs. “It was certainly an attempt to cause a rift between Henry and me, though. Which is odd, considering that whoever wrote that book would have wanted the curse broken.” 

 

“And you broke it with him.” Emma clenches her fists and turns, her voice rising. “Look–“ She takes a breath and calms her voice. “Look, whatever happened with Henry– if it’s your fault or someone else’s, I don’t know. I don’t even know about this curse now,” she admits. As logical as it is that Regina’s behind it, she’s becoming less and less convinced with each passing day in Regina’s presence. 

 

Before, Regina had been contained rage and snide resentment, always teetering on the precipice of explosion even when she’d been on her best behavior. The words  _Snow White_ had been enough of mood changer that even baby Henry had sensed it, time and again, and Regina had only kept her cool for long enough to carve distance between them.

 

Regina had never compromised her rage for love, and that had been the source of their distrust over and over again. Regina had always been moments from destroying them and Emma had stayed until there had been no other choice but to go, had clung to Regina for as long as she’d been able to without feeling as though she’d been betraying her personal code.

 

And now…now, Regina is changed.

 

Emma doesn’t need Belle or Snow to tell her that. Regina still contains her rage but _better_ , calmer, no longer on a hair trigger. Emma doesn’t know what had happened in the missing year but she can grudgingly concede now that…whatever it had been that had led her to Regina’s bed…it might have been her choice.

 

_We’re bound to each other, Emma_ , Regina had once said with such defeat that Emma had ached. For all the legends of true love and epic romance, Emma and Regina’s had been mired in misery, the lighter moments few and far between. And yet they’re still bound to each other, still drawn together by more than just a son, and now, finally, it’s beginning to feel like they’re ready for it.

 

“Emma?” Regina prods, and Emma realizes that she’s been silent for a long time. And that Regina’s hands are in hers now, somehow. “Whatever you think happened…it didn’t. Henry and I managed through the book. I’ve… _Emma_ ,” she whispers, tightening her grip on Emma. 

 

It takes Emma a moment before she feels the wetness on her cheeks; helpless, frustrated tears sliding down her face. “Dammit,” she mutters, swiping at them, but they keep spilling. “I just have…a lot of complicated shit with you, okay?” 

 

“Okay,” Regina says, curling her fingers between Emma’s.

 

Emma yanks them away. “No. I mean, I _hate_ you. I want you _dead_.” She snarls it out, rough and hoarse, and Regina’s eyebrow lifts in polite disbelief. As though Emma hadn’t had a knife at her throat days ago, as though she knows with certainty that Emma wouldn’t have ended her then. Emma seethes and deflates and seethes at herself for her weakness. “I hate me sometimes but I hate you more. I have to hate you for…for everything you’ve taken from me–” 

 

“I know.” Regina’s fingers are twisting as though she can’t figure out what to do with them. “You think you have a monopoly on self-loathing? Do you know how long I spent _mourning_ you? Regretting so much of what I’d…what we’d both done to each other?” Her eyes are glistening now, too, even though her voice is hard.

 

“Ten years of Henry’s life,” Emma hisses through her tears. “ _Ten years!_ And all the time before that when I needed you to…” It’s like pulling teeth, admitting that she _needs_ , that she’d needed before. Emma’s never done _needed_ , not until there’d been a baby coming and Regina’s arms wrapped around them both. And she’d let herself be vulnerable at last to the very worst person possible in spite of everything. “Oh, god, Regina, you let me down,” she says, slumping against the bench.

 

Regina is silent, her lips pressing together to keep them from quivering, and Emma does reach for her hands again. “But I…” She looks away, unable to face the hope in Regina’s eyes. “All those nights…that year at the Dark Castle…I was so _lonely_. It’s so fucked up. I missed you so much,” she chokes out. 

 

She’d hated her, laid in the dark with her fists clenched as she’d cursed Regina. She’d obsessed over what she’d do to her and how she’d exact vengeance and _god_ , it had been better to hate Regina and feel her presence around her than it had been to be without her. “It’s fucked up that I still love you. That we still have this…” She wrenches her hand from Regina’s to gesture at them both.  _“Thing_.” Her hand moves wildly, with a mind of its own, and it lands on Regina’s cheek with incomprehensible tenderness. “That I still…” 

 

Regina’s still wet and worn from her near-drowning, the hand Emma had released settling down to scrape at the cuff again. Her skin is wan and her hair is hanging around her face but all Emma can see is her eyes, gleaming with burning love. She moves closer, her fingers trailing along the line of of Regina’s jaw and her knees curling beneath her as she shifts toward Regina, and she leans in…

 

Regina jerks away, stumbling off the bench and nearly crashing into the railing. “Sorry,” she says, backing away as tears spring to her eyes. “I…I can’t…” 

 

“Oh,” Emma says, stunned. Of all the things she’d imagined Regina do next, running away is at the very bottom of the list. “I…I see.” 

 

“No, you don’t.” Regina hangs onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip. “No, you don’t see. Emma, you were right. You must be right. We haven’t been attacked by anyone but angry townspeople. There’s no villain marching up and declaring dominion over the town.” She’s sobbing helplessly, small when silhouetted against the ocean, and Emma is afraid to move any closer. “I cast the curse. I must have cast the curse. And if I kiss you…if I even kiss Henry…”

 

And Emma understands at last. “Oh,” she says again, softer and with wonder. “You think we could break the curse with our kiss.”

 

“I do,” Regina admits, flushing a dark russet the color of the setting sun behind her. “And I can’t.” 

 

“Why the hell not?” Emma demands. “This is it! If we kiss like this– if that works– we could know the truth about everything! We’d have _answers_.” 

 

“I don’t want those answers!” It erupts from Regina’s throat in a near-shriek. “I don’t want to…Emma, someone thought I was dangerous enough to put this cuff on me and I still went off and cast the curse. I thought I’d changed before last year. I thought I was _good_. And if I wasn’t…if I became someone despicable again in that missing year…I won’t be that woman again,” she gasps out. “I can’t remember. I _can’t_.” 

 

Emma stands up and Regina flinches back, flattening herself against the railing. Emma moves closer and closer and Regina shivers, her arms tight around herself and her face pleading.

 

She doesn’t kiss her, even when Regina is resigned and helpless to resist. Instead, she slides her arms around Regina and feels Regina’s arms loosen and stretch around hers, the both of them trembling as they clutch onto each other. Their hearts are beating in time again, both too fast but still alternating pulses, and today it’s soothing instead of terrifying.

 

“I don’t believe it anymore,” Emma murmurs into Regina’s ear, and she can feel the confidence surge back through her at Regina’s fears. If she’d had doubts before, now her suspicion is eradicated, by choice as much as as a reaction to Regina’s admission. 

 

Regina's fingers dig into her back, tremors still wracking her body, and Emma closes her eyes and says what's rising through her like a final hope. “I don’t believe you cast the curse. I can’t believe that you’d lose yourself when you’re so afraid of going down that road.” She presses her face into the curve of Regina’s neck, careful not to let her lips touch the other woman's skin. “Don’t let me down,” she whispers. _Not again._

 

Regina feels warm and safe and like family again, like the beginnings of something stronger as she whispers, “And what if I already have?”

 

“I’m going to find them for you. Whoever cast this curse. They’re out there and they’re fucking with us alland we’re going to find them.” She slips from _I_ to _we_ so easily that she doesn’t notice it until Regina’s hands tighten against her back. “And when we can…we break it. And whatever we remember will be…” 

 

She hopes, desperately _needs_ to be right about this. She can’t do it again, not years of cursing Regina’s name and being alone with no one to love because of it. “That’ll be it,” she says, and her heart skips the beats that Regina’s doesn't until she’s breathless and determined.

 

_Thump. (Thump.) Thump. (Thump.) Thump._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi, I have been posting faster than I've been replying this summer so a lot of older reviews have been swallowed up by my inbox. I'm still responding to the most recent chapter because I can still find those reviews, but if you've left me feedback on an older chapter (or other fic) and are waiting for a response or have a question, you can message me on tumblr or just let me know now and I'll get right to it. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Snow dabs a napkin against her mouth and then dives into her mayonnaise-soaked pickles again. “Sorry,” she says to Regina’s repulsed expression. “I think I must have been halfway to scurvy in the missing year with the way I’ve been craving–“ She sticks another one in her mouth. “You have _no idea_ how good these are. Emma?” She pushes the plate forward. Emma looks at Regina, alarmed.

 

Regina says delicately, “I ordered Emma a grilled cheese. Why don’t we…start her…on that.” She peers at Emma out of the corner of her eye and Emma nods quickly, her shoulder bumping against Regina’s and lingering there.

 

They’re…Emma doesn’t know what they are right now, not since yesterday, when they’d walked away from the pier with their fingers half-tangled together. Last night, they’d done dinner with Henry and then watched a _movie_ on the magic mirror structure, and they’d focused on that. After he’d left, Emma had insisted that they go through Regina’s spellbooks to find answers. 

 

They haven’t found a memory potion that can penetrate a curse– _just for Henry,_ Emma had insisted, but Regina had watched her with suspicion– and they still haven’t found a way to remove the cuff, short of consulting with the Blue Fairy. But they’d sat up late in Regina’s study, Emma sprawled out on the couch and Regina seated behind a table, and the tension had come and gone.

 

And now morning is here and Regina is reluctantly agreeing to make an appearance in town for breakfast because Emma had asked, nothing more. They’re still sitting apart while Snow is nearly on top of David across from them, but now their arms are against each other’s in the booth and Emma warms at the sensation. “I’m going with Regina’s food,” she announces, and Snow pouts.

 

“My midwife says that there’s probably nothing I’m going to crave that’s inedible,” she says glumly.

 

Emma’s eyes widen. “Probably?” She hadn’t had the luxury of cravings for most of her pregnancy, not when she was locked up in the Dark Castle and nourished only at the whims of a terrifying spider. She doesn’t know if she’d been craving food or just hungry.

 

“Midwife?” Regina perks up, and Emma thinks of Kalla too. “Who have you been using?” 

 

“She’s new in town from the second curse– Henry!” Snow says, twisting to beam at him anxiously as he emerges from the back hall of the tavern.

 

Henry doesn’t seem to notice what she’d said, thankfully. “Hi, Moms.” His eyes are on Emma and Regina. He’s looking at the way they’re sitting, side-by-side and unintentionally flush against each other, and this boy who doesn’t even remember them is grinning like he can read them already. “Are we still going to the stables today?” 

 

Emma nods just as Regina shakes her head. “You’re going to the stables,” she says, nudging Emma. “I have some research to do.” Her smile is gentle and knowing, and Emma can see wistfulness in her eyes. _I don’t want to keep you from getting to know each other_ , she’d said last night, and it had been a non sequitur amongst the lazy researching. Emma had had to keep herself from lashing out and pointing out– _you’ve already kept us from that_ – but she’s still surprised now at what Regina’s offering. 

 

“Are you–“ 

 

There’s a _crash_ from Granny’s counter and they all look up, catching a blur of orange hair as the woman who’d dropped her plate crouches and whirls around, nearly whacking the Blue Fairy in the head in the process. “There’s my midwife!” Snow says cheerfully, and Emma takes that in as she crosses the room to grab the woman by the arm and drag her back toward the bathrooms.

 

“You!” she hisses, the pieces finally fitting together. Of course. Of _course_.

 

“Let go of me!” Zelena hisses back, glancing toward the front of the tavern with a twitchy glare. “What have you done? How is she–?” She looks wild, awed and furious at once.

 

Emma stares at her, her fingers still tight around her arm, and she breathes, “ _You_ ,” again with building relief. “You cast this curse.” She hadn’t thought Zelena would even have been here– not after the dramatics of the flying monkeys and the castle and all the indications that Zelena with power isn’t a Zelena who knows how to manage low key– but if she _is_ , that means they have another suspect other than Regina.

 

“I did not!” Zelena sputters, her face clearing up. “I had nothing to do with Re– with the _Evil Queen’s_ little kingdom here.” She leans forward, and every inch of Emma knows that she’s lying. “I want to live my quiet life at last in this world, away from you and your kind, and if you ever breathe word of me to–“ 

 

“Emma?” Zelena vanishes in a flash of green smoke just as Regina rounds the corner, Henry trailing behind her. “Is everything all right?” 

 

Emma manages a smile. “It’s fine,” she says, and her jaw sets with determination.

 

Behind Regina, she sees Henry’s jaw set in the exact same motion as he watches her.

 

* * *

 

 

“So Mom doesn’t ride?” Henry wants to know as they make their way down to the stables. They’d taken a brief detour into the woods to where the Merry Men have an encampment of cabins, and now they’re finally ready to go riding. 

 

“Oh, no. Your mom is very accomplished. Showy,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Not nearly as good as I am at navigating a forest. But I’m sure she’ll be out there next time with us, doing hurdles to impress you.”

 

“Cool.” Henry brightens. “So which one do I get to ride?” 

 

There are three horses out in the paddock, Lancelot’s and Rocinante and…“Beetle!” Emma calls out, whistling long, and her horse lets out a low neigh and trots to them. He’s looking a bit worn. Maybe it’s losing nine months of gradual aging. Maybe it's the years finally beginning to catch up on him with the added stress of the curse. But he chews happily on her hair and she leans against him, inhaling the scent of home.

 

Behind him comes Rocinante, who sniffs Henry’s hand and then positions himself at Henry’s side. Henry gapes up at him, utterly intimidated. 

 

“That’s Regina’s horse,” Emma says, rubbing a hello along his mane. “I don’t think you’re ready for Rocinante just yet.” Instead, they find him a mild-mannered cob who trots comfortably beside Beetle across the field. 

 

Henry hangs on, his forehead screwed up in concentration as he focuses on following Emma’s directions. “Were you riding when you were my age?”

 

Emma laughs. “Oh, god, no. Your mom grew up on an _estate_. She was probably riding as an infant. I was an orphan with…foster parents…” She catches the _master_ just in time. (Regina had spent half the morning lecturing her on what she can and can’t reveal about her past, and how she can package the rest of it. She’d rolled her eyes but promised to make an attempt.) “Anyway, I did run away from home when I was a little older than you. But before that, I don’t think I’d ever been on a horse.” 

 

“When did you get Beetle?” 

 

Emma leans to the side, just enough so she can lower her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t ever tell Regina I told you this or we’re both going to have to sit through _endless_ lectures.” 

 

Henry nods solemnly.

 

“I went out one day after I’d gotten out, went back to my old foster brother's place. He had two horses, and after his father died, he’d shoved them into cramped stables and neglected them.” Beetle had been only a foal then, still not quite full grown. Emma had broken into the stables and freed him and his mother, and she’d let the other Merry Men find the mother in the woods and kept the foal close, looking after him until he was undoubtedly her own. “So I stole him.” 

 

“Awesome!”

 

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that, either.” Emma heaves an exaggerated sigh. “She used to nag me so much about the stealing. You’d think that I’d done it for _fun_.” 

 

Henry eyes her speculatively. “Did you?” 

 

“No! Sometimes,” she admits, grinning at him. He grins back.

 

This is easier than it had been before, when she doesn’t feel as though she’s _trying_ all the time. There’s no need to pretend as much, to struggle to fit into Regina and Henry’s dynamic. She can have her own dynamic with Henry, separate but by no means without Regina’s influence on them. 

 

Whatever wrongs Regina had done in the past, they’re slowly beginning to pick up the pieces, and Emma’s gratified to know that she isn’t doing it alone. Regina is on her side this time, no matter how hard it is to fully believe that. Regina is just as determined for them to be a family as the rest of them are.

 

And Emma’s going to do her part in that.

 

At lunchtime, they unpack their basket from Granny’s and pick through the sandwiches and drinks. Henry blinks down at the assortment. “I know that I’m a growing teen and all that, but I really don’t need six sandwiches.” 

 

“I got one of each on the menu,” Emma says sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you’d like. And…” She takes a deep breath, hating that she has to do this. “I’m actually expecting some friends.” 

 

“Friends?” Henry’s eyes are narrowed at once, seeking out and finding the guilt on her face. “You’re ditching me.” 

 

Emma chews on her lip, as unhappy as he is. “Look, here’s the thing. I _want_ to. I do. But there’s something I’ve got to look into, for all our sakes. John and Lancelot and Mulan are all pretty badass,” she offers, mostly to sneak a smile onto her son’s mulish face. Instead, the stubbornness just gets more fierce. “They’ll be fun to ride with.” 

 

“I’m coming with you.” 

 

“You absolutely are not. It’s much too dangerous.” 

 

Henry scowls at her. “Come on, you just told me that you ran away from home when you were about my age! I can go out _with my mom_ on some secret mission.”

 

“Henry, this isn’t a game. The person I’m investigating could be–“ 

 

“The redheaded lady from the diner,” he puts in, and Emma’s impressed despite herself. “I’m not _stupid_ , Ma. I saw the way you panicked when you saw her.” 

 

Emma sighs heavily, squinting out into the distance until she spots Lancelot and Mulan arriving at the stables. “If I’m right, she’s someone who’s done an immeasurable amount of damage to us all. I can’t risk you coming with me.” 

 

“I’m Swan Hood’s son. I think I’ll be okay,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Emma starts.

 

“ _What?_ ” 

 

Henry lets out an exasperated noise. “You took me out on the Jolly Roger with a hook-handed captain yesterday. Belle runs the _library_. Lancelot? _Mulan_? And Mom says you rob the rich and give to the poor. I asked around.” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, I asked Mary Margaret when she was in a pregnancy daze. I’m not stupid,” he repeats. “What is this place, some kind of feminist Disney reality show? Am I the only one who doesn’t know? Are you really my moms?” he says, suddenly alarmed.

 

Emma stares at him, pride rising in her throat again. This is her son, insightful and clever and brave. This is the boy Regina had raised. She swallows hard, the words damp as they emerge. “Of course we are. And you’re a little smartass, aren’t you?” The insult lacks any bite, and Henry softens and flushes at it.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I am. And you know that if you don’t let me come, I’m just going to follow you anyway, right?” He smirks at her and she sees another boy’s smirk superimposed upon it, a kid not much older than Henry who’d been her determined tag-along for as long as she’d grudgingly allowed it. _Quinn_ , who’d demanded from her respect and honestly. Quinn, who’s gone now because she’d once been reckless and a victim of self-imposed loneliness.

 

“Don’t you dare tell Regina,” she warns him. “You do that and she kills me. Then you. Then me again,” she says ruefully, reaching out to cuff his ear. He makes a face. “But in…where I’m from, you’re not that young, I guess.” There’s a hollowness to that admission, that she’d already missed the years where he’d only been a fragile child to protect, but Henry pounces instead on the _where I’m from._

 

“So it’s real?” he asks wonderingly.

 

“It’s real,” Emma concedes. “Not a… _show_ of any kind. I’ve only just crossed over into this land.” 

 

“So who are we we tracking down?” 

 

“Her name is Zelena. She’s a witch–“

 

Henry leans forward. “Awesome! Like Maleficent? The Evil Queen?” 

 

“ _Not_ the Evil Queen,” Emma says hastily. That’s a conversation for another day. “She’s just…a witch. She’s turned two of my men into flying monkeys.” 

 

“Three,” Mulan says grimly, kneeling down beside Emma to peer into the picnic basket. She pulls out a sandwich and tosses another two to Lancelot. “Little John got too close to the town line and he was taken. Next thing we know, he’s transforming.” 

 

_Oh_. Emma’s already-fragile heart tightens a little more at that revelation. She hasn’t been close to Little John in a long time, not like she’s bonded with Lancelot and she can see the stirrings of something with Mulan, but they’re _family_ , and he’s the first one to have ever given her a home. And now he’s been hurt following her orders.

 

“We found her house by following Little John out,” Lancelot offers, dropping to the ground, and Emma turns her attention back to him. “Looks abandoned for now. I have no idea where she’s hiding out.” 

 

“We’ll go take a look,” Emma decides. “Henry’s coming with me.” 

 

“Operation Cobra is a go,” Henry agrees, beaming at her. She’s momentarily helpless under the force of that smile, as potent as Regina’s. _Damn_. “We can ride another time, right?” He turns hopefully to Lancelot and Mulan, the beginnings of a healthy amount of hero worship written across his face. “If this whole Swan Hood thing really is real, I’m going to have to be a Merry Man,” he informs them.

 

“You’ve been a Merry Man since you were a little tyke riding around in the woods on my shoulders,” Lancelot says, eyes twinkling. 

 

Henry gapes at him and says, “ _Awesome_ ,” yet again.

 

* * *

 

The grounds around the farmhouse have been trod on in the past few days, and not just by Emma’s Merry Men. Other shoes have flattened the ground in some places and shifted the dust in others, and Emma eyes a set of double doors that lie flat on the ground. “She’s been down here. Stay close.” 

 

She picks the lock on them and peers around, a hand loose on Henry’s as they descend into a cellar. “Midwife, my ass.” The room is set up like the Dark One’s secret room had been, vials and potions on one small table and a few stacks of paper on a second one. Emma flips through one pile and Henry takes a second one.

 

They work in silence for a minute, putting aside notes that make no sense and peering through books, and Henry ventures, “Okay, so not feminist Disney reality show?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

“But something Disney.” Henry considers. “Wait, Robin Hood is some British legend, right? You don’t sound British. Are you British?” 

 

“I…don’t think so?” Emma opens a spellbook and scowls at the foreign symbols in place of text. Regina has the same elvish in the books Emma’s looked through, and she insists that Emma won’t be able to read it without magic.

 

Henry persists. “That doesn’t make sense, unless someone just…squashed together all the stories? Why would they do that?” 

 

“I don’t know, Henry.” There’s a colorful paper stuck between two of the books, and she tugs hard until it’s freed. “Maybe someone’s just been telling stories about our world. Biased ones,” she adds, grimacing at the thought of that terrible book from yesterday. “Ones that only tell one side of…” 

 

Emma frowns at the picture she’s just uncovered. It’s a smaller version of a family portrait, Regina a tiny girl scowling at the artist as Henry Sr. rests a hand on her shoulder. Cora stands with them, her chin raised. “Hey, kid, take a look at this. These are your grandparents.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Your grandfather was one of the only ones who could calm you down when you were a baby.” She bites back the grief that comes from thinking of him and what Regina had taken from herself and Henry. _Not today. Today we move forward._  “You two would have been good friends now if he was still around.” 

 

Henry looks solemnly at the page, studying the faces on it. “Why does the Wicked Witch of the West have this?” 

 

“I don’t know. Know your enemy, I guess.” The third stack on the table has a folder on top of it, and Emma opens it gingerly. “Huh.” They’re…photos of some sort, mostly black with what looks like some kind of elaborate design of grey. 

 

“Sonograms,” Henry says to Emma’s confusion. “You said she was a midwife, right? These are pictures of babies before they’re born.” 

 

And now that Emma knows it, she can kind of imagine a profile of a face on the photo. “I…don’t think that’s how babies look in the womb.” 

 

“They don’t have anything like that in your– in our world?” 

 

“Well, I saw you in a vision.” She’d known who he’d be, what he’d be called, and she’s lived a thousand lifetimes of false memories with him. None of it compares to having the real boy standing beside her now, staring at her like he might laugh at the absurdity of her response, and she blinks back the tears that spring up. “Oh, please. Like these sono-grams make any more sense than that?”

 

He must hear how choked up she is because he furrows his brow and says, “What’s wrong?” 

 

She musses his hair. “Absolutely nothing,” she says, and a tentative smile creeps onto his face as he looks down at the photos again.

 

“Hey,” he says suddenly, and the smile vanishes. “ _Hey!_ Look at this. This is weird.” He holds up a second sonogram, his thumb on the writing in the corner. “Aurora Rose. That’s the mom’s name. And here’s the date it was taken, two days ago, and here’s the due date. But _this_ one–“ He picks up the first. “It has the same due date, but it’s a different baby. Look at the name.” His face pales. “Mary…Margaret Blanchard.” 

 

“Midwife, my _ass_ ,” Emma mutters again, but she can feel the stirrings of worry within her. “It’s a weird coincidence for such a small town, I guess,” she acknowledges. “But not unheard of.”

 

Henry gives her a long look. “The Wicked Witch of the West has suddenly taken up a new job and it’s for two babies who might be born the same day? _Just_ two babies,” he amends, spreading open the folder. “This is only Aurora and Mary Margaret’s information.” 

 

And there’s something about both women that niggles at the back of Emma’s mind, something they both share beyond castles and fairy godmothers and sleeping curses…

 

Sleeping curses… 

 

“True love babies,” Emma whispers in dawning horror. “Zelena’s after true love.” True love can be bottled and turned to magic, can break curses and change the very rules of the world in the right hands. And children born to parents who share true love are said to have magical potential beyond measure. “Henry, you need to go _now_. Take your horse and ride back to the house. Get Regina.” She presses the sonograms into his hands. “Tell her everything. I’m going to look around some more.” 

 

She sends him off, watching to be sure he’s made it off the property before she heads for the front door of the farmhouse. 

 

The house is dusty and barely touched, and Emma can follow the tracks in the dust upstairs. They split, moving into each of the two bedrooms on the floor.

 

There are no signs of life in the bedroom on the right, but for a wand resting across the desk in the corner and a sprinkle of fairy dust that wafts from it. Emma touches it, cautious, and she thinks she hears a breathy laugh. When she whirls around, there’s no one behind her. When she whirls back, the wand is gone.

 

“Okay,” she says slowly, goosebumps erupting on her arms. “Okay, I’m just…going to go downstairs.” She can still hear the breathing, low and somehow familiar and alien at once, and she edges slowly out the door, sliding it closed.

 

The moment it’s shut, she slams it open again with her foot, a crossbow in her hands and firing in the direction of the breathing. Her arrow flies true and hits _someone_ , and there’s a flicker of energy and Emma can the woman at last.

 

She looks like a kindly grandmother, blonde hair so pale that Emma can’t tell where it’s fading into grey, plump and rosy-cheeked and with a smile on her face that doesn’t match the hardness in her eyes. Emma’s never seen her before and yet she can still sense a _familiarity_ to her, a visceral recognition at her gaze. And an instant later, there’s a flash and she’s gone from the room. “Who–“ 

 

And then comes the chittering of flying monkeys somewhere above her and Emma flees, running down the stairs as the ceiling itself opens up and the monkeys pour in. They bear down on her and she fires at them, again and again and again, missing half the time as she slides down the stairs and struggles for a better angle.

 

“That’s enough!” comes the command from behind her, and Emma sags with relief as Regina steps forward, some kind of rifle in hand. “I’m about to make some really terrible puns about you and monkeys,” she informs Emma.

 

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll duck for cover.”

 

Regina gives her a reprieve. “I can’t believe you gave up time with our son just to play hide-and-seek with the Wicked Witch of the West!” She fiddles with the miniature rifle. “How the hell does this thing work?” 

 

Emma takes it from her, aiming it and squeezing the trigger. There’s a _bang!_ and the monkeys scatter and flee as Emma smacks her head against a wall from the whiplash. “Ow!” 

 

Regina lets out a long-suffering sigh and snatches the weapon back, pointing and firing with enough ( _sloppy_ , Emma thinks grudgingly) precision to send the rest of the monkeys flapping away. 

 

“Where did this come from?” Emma demands, seizing it again.

 

“Thank you, Regina, for saving my sorry ass from a dozen of my fellow simians,” Regina corrects her.

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Regina, for providing me with a weapon to save your sorry ass,” she retorts. “Where did you get it?” 

 

“The sheriff. I had him follow you all day.” Regina cocks an eyebrow. “I know better than to underestimate the lengths you’d go to to kiss me.” 

 

Emma can’t help but grin at the way that Regina’s eyes dance, challenging, at the comment. “ _Please_. As if you’ve ever been any better.” Her head is still aching but she feels lighter here, after a day with Henry and with Regina fighting beside her; and she still hasn’t figured out where they stand but she can live with this. 

 

With the monkeys gone, she turns to the next room, squinting into the dark at a shelf of unlabeled bottles. “So, do you believe me yet that you didn’t cast the curse?” 

 

“I still don’t know why this cuff is on or why our hearts are…” Regina’s voice trails off. “I don’t believe it just yet. But I’m getting there.” 

 

“You’re so _stubborn._ ” Emma puffs out a goodnatured sigh.

 

Regina leans back against the shelf, rolling her eyes. “This coming from _you_.” 

 

Emma moves forward, slowly and calculatingly as though she’s still Swan Hood in the Evil Queen’s castle, making a point of invading Regina’s personal space. She can feel Regina’s eyes on her, hooded and hungry as she awaits Emma, and Emma presses her lips together to suppress a smirk and reaches behind her for a bottle. 

 

She takes a step back and Regina narrows her eyes at her, unimpressed at the maneuver. “That’s a bottle of whiskey, Emma. If we’re not doing the magic spell where we wind up taking turns over the toilet the next morning, we don’t have any use for it.”

 

“Speak for yourself. I just want to steal her stuff,” Emma shrugs, trying for an endearing grin. It’s built-in instinct at this point, robbing the assholes in life. And Zelena _is_ a particularly magnificent asshole.

 

“You have a great future in kleptomania. I can’t wait to see what you taught our son today.” 

 

“Hey! We’re going to return the horse, okay? And Beetle’s mine. Really, the stables stole _him_.” 

 

“A horse.” Regina pinches the bridge of her nose. “You had Henry steal a horse.”

 

Emma scoffs, seeing right through her. “Don’t even pretend you weren’t charmed when you saw him riding up to the house to get you.”

 

“I might’ve–“ 

 

“Ha!” 

 

Regina shakes her head, her eyes darkening. “I might’ve if I’d _been_ there,” she corrects Emma. “Remember, I was with the sheriff, tracking you. I knew you were up to something, and I wasn’t going to let you face it alone.” She tugs at the cuff on her wrist in frustration. “Are you telling me that Henry is alone somewhere in this town with a witch on the loose?” 

 

“Oh, no,” Zelena says from the shadows. They both wheel around. Zelena is lounging in the corner as though she’s been there all along– _has she?_ Emma doesn’t know– and Henry is struggling in her grasp, his hands scrabbling ineffectually at the arm Zelena has around his neck. She smiles. “No worries. Auntie Zelena is on call as your new babysitter.” 

 

“Zelena–“ Emma begins, panic rising in her throat.

 

“Zelena?” Regina repeats disbelievingly.

 

Zelena squeezes tighter and Henry turns helpless eyes on them, speaking at last like it’s the first time he’s been allowed to. “Moms,” he croaks. “I don’t think I’m cut out for feminist Disney.” The bottle of whiskey falls to the floor and shatters. 

 

Emma snatches her crossbow and aims it at Zelena. 

 

But it’s too late like this, without Regina’s magic or any other weapons or allies to come. Emma’s fingers waver at Zelena’s serene expression. She can’t risk hurting Henry, and Zelena knows it.

 

“A boy without his mind,” Zelena coos, patting Henry on the head. “How could I resist?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, this has a plot again and everything! *high fives all of you*


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been ordered to warn for tornadoes, so here's your trigger warning. Tiny little tornado in this chapter. Maybe two. Oh! Also some cutting/bloodletting. Also, some other stuff y'all might have been waiting for. :)
> 
> I won't be around at all next weekend so the next chapter might be a bit late, but I'll try to keep as close to schedule as I can!

“This way. Stand still,” Zelena orders them. “Put your weapons down.” They don't budge. Zelena waves her free hand and Emma’s crossbow and Regina’s gun both come flying out of their grips and land behind Zelena.

 

They’ve been marched out of the house, Henry still in Zelena’s grasp, and Regina has been staring at her with horrified recognition and dangerous fury. “Zelena,” she breathes again.

 

“You know her?” Emma murmurs, eyeing the witch as she inspects the ground around them. It’s a flat area of the field, cleared out of dead grass and with a circle carved into the dirt between them. 

 

Regina glares at Zelena with renewed force. “I do. She’s supposed to be dead.” 

 

“ _You’re_ supposed to be dead,” Zelena says, shaking her head. “You have no idea what I thought…and then I realized. I always knew that Emma would be a part of this, but until today, I had no third ingredient.” She drops her grasp on Henry and gives him a shove to them.

 

They catch him together, Emma wrapped around Henry and Regina wrapped around them both, and he trembles against them. “Mom. Ma. She grabbed me on the road. The horse just stopped moving and–“ 

 

“Shh,” Regina murmurs, stroking his hair. “Shh, it’s okay, honey.” 

 

“We got you,” Emma whispers, and turns back to Zelena. “Ingredient,” she repeats. “If you hurt our son, I’ll–“ 

 

“Oh, calm down,” Zelena says, rolling her eyes. There’s a manic energy to her now that Emma had never seen when they’d been at the Dark Castle. Anticipation and desperation mingled with a touch of madness, and it’s so familiar that Emma shivers with recognition. _Regina_. It’s the Evil Queen presiding over an execution while Emma watches from the shadows. It’s the Evil Queen sticking a knife into Snow’s belly and grinning all the way through it. “I’m not going to kill any of you,” she says. “I just need a little blood.” 

 

“You’re not going anywhere _near–_ “ Regina’s cut off mid-snarl as vines spring from the earth, winding around them and forcibly shoving them apart. Emma struggles as they constrict around her arms and legs, suspending her in midair, and Henry reaches for her but can’t get close enough. Regina screams, wild and impotent, and she angles her head forward as much as she can to her chained wrist and bites and bites at the cuff until her wrist is bruising purple.

 

Henry looks frightened. “Mom, no. It’s okay. She isn’t going to hurt us, she said. Mom, _please_.” 

 

“Regina,” Emma says sharply, and Regina falls silent, still wild-eyed.

 

Zelena says, “The sort of spell I need to summon _that girl_ is a bit of a trick.” She circles them, unsheathing a knife and twitching her fingers to maneuver the vines. “She has Mother’s shoes.” 

 

“ _Mother_ ,” Regina repeats in a low tone. “She isn’t your–“ 

 

“Oh, but she is.” Zelena smiles pleasantly at her. “You were more fun with your memories.” Regina glowers. Zelena crouches down to inspect her circle in the dirt. “She has Mother’s shoes, which means that she could pop in and pop out. What I needed is to develop a spell with enough power over her that she would have no choice but to stay for my vengeance.” 

 

She gestures at the circle. Regina says with recognition, “Hallowed ground. It’ll keep a spell for as long as–“ 

 

“As long as the blood remains in the earth,” Zelena finishes, smiling coolly. “And I’ve made some adjustments to the town line so  _earth_ in this case will only hold all of Storybrooke. Dorothy has nowhere to run.” 

 

She beckons and Emma is tugged forward, suspended over the dirt circle. “The Cowardly Lion,” Zelena murmurs, parting her fingers to slice a cut into her palm. Emma grits her teeth at the pain, refusing to scream as the blood drips into the circle. “All that time, that insipid  _second-guessing_. 'Regina doesn’t love me,’” she says in a sing-song voice. “‘Regina cast the curse.’” She leans forward, fingers biting into Emma’s bloody hand. “We took your courage to believe long ago.” 

 

“Took my…” Regina had said it and Emma had wanted to believe it, believe that it had been something artificial and wrong with her, and only now does she finally have that confirmation.

 

“And all those baby steps forward for dear Regina.” Zelena looks both irritated and oddly pleased at that. “Courage isn’t like the other traits. It can be reclaimed when it’s taken, though it’s quite rare. I was beginning to worry that we’d run out of time.”

 

“What the hell does that mean,” Emma grits out.

 

Zelena blows her a kiss and the vines tug Emma back into the brambles again. When Henry is the next to be pulled out, Emma fights and fights until she’s gasping for breath and lightheaded from blood loss and terror, and Regina is shouting again. “ _I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL–_ “

 

“The Scarecrow,” Zelena intones. “The boy without his mind.” 

 

“You keep saying that,” Henry says dumbly. “Why do you keep saying that?”

 

Zelena cuts his hand with care, and Emma screams too, flailing until she’s half-strangled by the vines and wrapped so tightly that she can’t move at all. When she finally stops struggling, it’s to see a green glow around Henry’s hand as Zelena heals him. 

 

“Thank you,” he says carefully. Zelena’s eyes flicker to a still-struggling Regina again and for a moment she almost looks regretful and guilty in the face of Regina’s fury. She jerks her finger and yanks Regina forward at last, Henry retreating until he’s suspended only a few feet from Emma. “The Tin Man,” he says. “That’s who’s left.” 

 

Regina glares at Zelena. “You screwed this up,” she snaps. “I’m not the one who has…whatever you tried to do to me. My heart is still intact.” 

 

“I crushed your heart with my bare hands and sent us to another land,” Zelena corrects her sleekly. “Your heart is gone. You weren’t supposed to be alive.” She plunges a hand through the vines and into Regina’s chest, seizing her heart as Regina chokes. Emma feels a corresponding pain deep in her chest, and she gasps out Regina’s name as Zelena raises the heart.

 

“You see?” she says, and she’s looking at Emma. She moves so quickly that Emma can’t even think to resist when her own heart is taken out, and all four of them gasp at once.

 

Hearts are magic, Emma knows that. But Emma’s seen hearts– seen her own heart– and she knows how they’re meant to look. And the two hearts in Zelena’s hands are very clearly _halves_. 

 

“You split your heart before I could cast the curse,” Zelena says wonderingly, eyeing the two pieces with something akin to envy. “You gave Regina half of your heart to keep her alive. What a foolish, altruistic thing to do.” She slams both halves back into their respective owners.

 

Regina is trembling, still furious about Henry but calming at last, and she turns to meet Emma’s eyes. Emma nods slowly. She doesn’t know how, doesn’t know what they must have done to– _She’d given Regina her heart_. That’s why it hasn’t stopped feeling wrong. That’s why it’s quiet around Regina. All this time, she’d thought that Regina had–

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and reaches for her in a futile stretch. 

 

Zelena cuts Regina’s palm, too, and the blood that dots the circle begins to glow with green energy. She steps away, watching as the energy builds and builds until it’s whirling in circles, around and around like a tiny tornado that seems to grow as it builds toward the heavens. It hurls Regina back toward Emma and Henry, fraying the vines the hold her with its sheer force, and Emma’s eyes flicker to them only briefly as the storm builds.

 

“There’s no place like home, Dorothy!” Zelena shouts gleefully, raising her hands to the sky in anticipation. The sky is turning grey above them, bits of dust and grass trapped in the twisting wind, and green meets grey and spreads out to cover them all.

 

Dirt is raining down on top of them, debris being sucked into the tornado and falling to hit them, and Emma squirms in a futile attempt to shield Regina and Henry from it. Regina twists her hands and twists and twists, the vines fraying more, but she doesn’t move yet.

 

The storm grows louder and louder until it’s at a deafening roar and even Zelena’s laughter can only be seen, not heard. She’s gazing into the storm as though it contains all her hopes and dreams, and even Emma is watching the tornado as it clears up with breathless curiosity at what it is that Zelena is so drawn to.

 

And then–

 

The sky clears up first, and then the wind follows. The tornado begins to shrink, smaller and smaller and tighter and tighter, and they’re all leaning forward in their vined prison, craning their necks as they stare at the circle in front of them. 

 

It’s empty.

 

Zelena howls in frustration and storms to them. “You three! You did something!” She grabs Emma by the chin, yanking her forward. Regina’s hands move almost imperceptibly. “Your courage! No, it can’t be. She said–“ 

 

“Glinda?” Regina says, frowning fiercely. “Glinda said?” She shakes her head, disappointment in her stance. “You’re taking your cues from Glinda now, aren’t you.”

 

Zelena sneers at her. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 

“I know that Dorothy’s dead,” Regina says quietly. Zelena scoffs. Regina murmurs, “I met her once. She still has Mother’s shoes. And Rumple tore out her heart in Neverland.” 

 

“ _No_.” Zelena looks furious. “No, you’re lying. You’re lying!” she snarls, louder and more desperate than she’s been yet. She spins around, letting Emma go as her eyes fall onto Henry. “ _You_ ,” she snaps. “Your memories weren’t enough of a loss.” 

 

Henry lets out a noise in protest but he’s already spinning forward, the vines jerking him closer as Zelena backs up, flipping the knife into her hands. “I’ll cut out your brain,” she says, voice dangerous and melodious. 

 

Regina moves.

 

Emma expects it to be at Zelena, a whirl of unstoppable maternal power, and she’s taken aback when Regina instead yanks herself free of the vines and takes five defiant steps until she’s standing in front of Emma. “Regina?” Emma says, glancing over to where Zelena is frozen in startled response, Henry still held captive above her.

 

“I love you,” Regina says, and darts forward to kiss her.

 

The magic starts low in Emma’s stomach like nothing before. She’s always been wary of magic but she’s never experienced it, not as anything so tangible as heat and warmth and love, and it rolls through her whole body now like a song. The energy of it is enough that it should have thrown Regina away from her, should have made Emma stumble backward as though she’d been slapped, but instead it seems to envelop them both in comfort and reject anything that would stop the kiss.

 

And Regina, of course, tastes like all the things that make up the magic flooding through her. Regina is hope and love and faith, is magic and is _right_ , and kissing Regina is coming home after a very long day.

 

It takes nearly the duration of the kiss for Emma to remember what they’re doing here and _why_ , what temporary power the magic– the _true love’s kiss_ , she thinks, and sets that revelation aside for now– has given her. She reaches out with a hand no longer chained by vines and, very swiftly, removes the cuff from Regina’s wrist.

 

Regina pulls away from her and stares at her for a moment, and Emma breathes out and remembers at last. _Nine months_. Nine months of fighting, of searching, of struggling to come to terms with each other. Nine months of desperately longing for Henry and of unpacking all their baggage to learn how to love each other again. Nine months of Zelena being… _Zelena_ , of loyal friends and new allies and the mystery of Henry’s theft revealed. Nine months and a curse and a shared heart and–

 

“Oh, happy days,” Zelena says distractedly, and when they twist around, it’s to see the circle glowing again, the tornado forming anew as though it had been recharged by their kiss. Henry is prone on the ground, looking dazed and barely conscious.

 

Regina starts forward toward Zelena and Emma yanks her back by the shoulder. “Wait!” 

 

“She tried to–“ 

 

“ _Wait_ ,” Emma repeats forcefully. The storm is growing once more, and this time, someone is flickering in and out of sight within it. “Not yet. It’ll blow off your limbs.” She fumbles for the knife she’s sure she has concealed in her pant leg and Regina conjures a fireball with a happy sigh.

 

“I missed you,” she says almost dreamily to the fireball, her rage forgotten for the moment. It’s _definitely_ more romantic than their true- _fucking-_ love’s kiss had been, and Emma opens her mouth to object as the tornado blinks out of existence and leaves a woman behind.

 

For all the fuss over Dorothy, Emma had expected her to be…taller, maybe. More dangerous-looking. Not a woman about her age in a grey jacket and odd black heels, squinting out at them as she shades her eyes from the sun.  She's holding a contraption in her hand and glaring at it as a red light blinks back at her. “Fucking unreliable magic blocker,” she mutters, blinking around at them. “How much energy did you _take_ to summon–“ She pauses as she takes in Zelena. “Zelena.” 

 

“Dorothy.” For all the mania that had preceded the summons, Zelena is remarkably calm now that Dorothy is finally there. “My sister said Rumple killed you,” Zelena says, her eyes narrowing.

 

“He thought he did. He also thought he was communing with his girlfriend in the middle of the jungle. Not the most reliable of sources. Sister?” Dorothy repeats. “Who’s your sister, that pirate chick?” 

 

“Hardly,” Zelena sniffs. “My sister is a queen.”

 

“Oh. _That_ queen. Yikes.” Dorothy moves forward in a blur of brown and grey, kicking the air with the kind of grace that had before now been reserved only for Mulan. 

 

Zelena is thrown backward, glaring up at Dorothy with a bloody lip. “You betrayed me! I was your friend and you–“ 

 

“You were a tyrant,” Dorothy informs her, removing something from her pocket. It looks a bit like the tv remote that Emma had used the night before, but when Dorothy fiddles with it, it begins to spark at the ends. “I rescued Winkie Country from you and your unholy magic.” A ripple of disgust runs through her. “All I did was return Oz to the balance it needed.” 

 

“You betrayed me,” Zelena snarls, a blast of magic hurling Dorothy away from her.

 

“Yeah, because every kid wants to hang with the Wicked Witch of the West and barely manage to escape intact! How dare I,” Dorothy says mockingly, and there’s a quiver to her lip that looks only like fear. “How dare a _kid_ fight for herself in your fucking power struggles. I was traumatized for months after. If the Home Office hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would have survived Oz at all.” She clenches her fists. “And I can defend myself now.” 

 

She moves swiftly, and this time, Zelena isn’t fast enough to stop the remote when Dorothy thrusts it at her. It catches her in the chest and _reverberates_ , sending wave of wave of energy into Zelena until Zelena is shaking as though she’s having a seizure. “You’re never going to touch me again,” Dorothy snaps, and there are angry tears in her eyes. “The Wizard was right. You were never my friend.” 

 

She clicks a button on the remote again and the shaking intensifies until there’s a blast of fire and the whole thing goes up in flames. Zelena hits the ground and vanishes into a cloud of green smoke, her eyes unfocused and wild, and Dorothy twists around to follow the path of the fireball to Regina.

 

Regina says, “You,” and it’s with muted loathing, resentment contained with disbelief.

 

“Well, this is awkward,” Dorothy says, eyeing Regina as though she’s another threat to be eliminated, and she clicks her heels together thrice and disappears.

 

Emma exhales for what feels like the first time in hours. “Where did she go?” 

 

“Still hunting Zelena,” Regina says tersely. “That’s my guess. She didn’t seem willing to give up this time. I don’t know if Zelena was all that prepared for…well, Tamara.” 

 

“Tamara?” 

 

“That’s how I knew her. I don’t know which was her real name.” Regina steps around the circle, heading toward Henry. “She was Neal’s fiancé.” 

 

“The one who shot him?” 

 

“Tortured me. Kidnapped Henry.” Regina crouches down. “I hadn’t thought I’d ever see her again, let alone that she had history with my sister.” She says _my sister_ still with that regretful cadence, Regina with her memories of the year before still drawn to Zelena. “I don’t know which of them is the villain or victim here.”

 

“Both?” Emma suggests. 

 

“Perhaps.” Henry is beginning to stir in her arms, and Regina kisses him gently on the forehead. “Wake up, sweetheart. We have to get you home.”

 

For a breathless moment, Henry blinks up at Regina in confusion, and Emma can’t tell if he’s recovered his memories. And then his face splits into a beaming smile and he says, “Mom!” and throws his arms around her. It’s different than before, more weight and love behind it, and Regina holds him tight and kisses him again and again until he’s batting her away from his cheeks and laughing. “Mom,” he says again. “I remember…”

 

His voice trails off.

 

Regina loosens her grip on him, gently turning him around as he raises his gaze to find Emma, and his eyes are wide, his voice laden with wonder. “Ma?” he whispers.

 

And it couldn't compare, when they’d been two strangers getting to know each other. It can't compare now that they’re a different kind of stranger, now that this is Henry who’s spent his whole life mourning her and wondering about her and with memories of her as indistinct as the last bits of magic still coursing through her. It can’t compare to the way she’s crying now with relief at this boy who _knows_ her, who’s wanted her all along even when she’d only been a picture in a very inaccurate book.

 

This is Henry who knows magic and love and all the stories of his missing mother, and there’s no more tension when he’s running to her and launching himself into her arms as though he’s been made for them. She spins in place, her fingers digging into his skin, and she laughs and laughs and laughs until there are helpless tears everywhere and her son is tight in her arms, crying with her. 

 

Regina watches them with nothing but bare affection in her eyes, and Emma catches her gaze and beckons her forward. Henry melts into them both, _Mom! Ma!_ and for the first time in over a decade, Emma thinks, _We’re going to be okay_.

 

* * *

 

Mulan catches them before they leave the farmhouse, hugging Emma tight when she sees her and then embracing a very startled Regina, who looks rather gratified by the affection. “We were worried when we saw the storm, but then our memories broke and we thought you had it under control,” she teases, nudging Emma. “True love’s kiss, huh? Now I remember all those days perched at Regina’s bedside.” 

 

Emma smirks at her, unfazed. “Oh, and do you also remember Lancelot kissing you?” 

 

Mulan flushes, darting a glance to where Henry and Lancelot are talking animatedly by the horses. “Not _now_ , Emma.” She peers around. “What happened to Zelena?” 

 

“She started up with the wrong friend,” Emma offers. She glances over at Regina. “Shouldn’t we…don’t we have to go bail her out?” Zelena has a limitless amount of free passes from Regina, it seems sometimes, and Emma’s grown accustomed to it. 

 

Regina shrugs wearily. “Eventually she’ll come to me. I know she’s still…” She waves vaguely into the setting sun. “I can sense her moving around. She can take care of herself for now.” She reaches for Emma’s hand and grasps it firmly. “I have other family to be with tonight.” 

 

And she does, once they make their hurried phone calls to Snow and some of the others who are demanding answers. Regina does the bare minimum and then refuses to speak to anyone else who isn’t in the house with them. 

 

Henry sits between them, alternating between breathless descriptions of New York and demanding the same of the Enchanted Forest from them both. They order something called pizza and Regina makes what seems like a rare exception to let them eat it on the couch, all three of them reluctant to be separated even by chairs at a table.

 

Henry’s hand is tight on Emma’s and Emma can’t breathe at how _simple_ it is, her son who looks at her as though she’s a revelation as she looks at him the same. And Regina watches both of them with so much love in her eyes that Emma’s heart skips a beat for the first time since they’d kissed. “Tell me about what you were doing in the other world,” Henry begs.

 

“Slaying ogres, mostly,” Emma says, and Henry’s eyes round. “Breaking into the Dark Castle. Not getting turned into a flying monkey. Hanging out with your buddy Aziz.” 

 

“You made me go to _junior high_ ,” Henry whines in disbelief at Regina. Regina lays her head against the back of the couch and her arm around his shoulder, and Emma slides her own arm over so she can stroke Regina’s hair. “I was doing math and Aziz was fighting ogres!” 

 

“I didn’t want you to have the brainpower of an ogre,” Regina says fondly. “Last slice of pizza?” She points at the open box on the coffee table and Henry and Emma both make a mad dash for it, their hands bumping against each other as they seize opposite ends of it.

 

“You had three pieces already!” Henry accuses.

 

“I spent the day fighting off Zelena’s horde of flying monkeys and some killer vines! I’m hungry!” 

 

“ _Ma_ ,” Henry implores. “I spent ten years waiting to meet you.” His eyes are sincere, almost wet with tears, and Emma blinks away some of her own in response until he finishes his argument. “Why are you gonna sour that up tonight by stealing the last piece of pizza?” 

 

“I was going to suggest we put it in the fridge,” Regina says. Two outraged glares are turned on her. “Or…you could battle over it like a pair of hyenas. I suppose Emma can’t be helped, but Henry…” She shakes her head in mock regret. “One year with Prince Charming over there and you’ve turned into a caveman. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

 

Henry gets the pizza after reproachful scowls at both of them, and it isn’t long before he’s curled up between them again, this time quiet as they murmur back and forth. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma blurts out again. “I know that I didn’t remember but…I’m sorry for making you doubt yourself.” She’d been doubting everyone, herself included, but Regina had suffered most for it. She bites back revulsion at how sorely she’d failed them all, how much they’d hurt when they hadn’t needed to anymore. _Never again_. She trusts Regina now, and that’s never going to change again.

 

Regina musses up Henry’s hair as his head lands on her shoulder, his eyes half-closed. “You didn’t know,” she says. “It made sense at the time. And apparently, someone strained all the courage to believe out of you.” Emma strains to remember _how_  once again. And this time, she comes up with one memory.

 

She’s standing in the woods and fairy-kindness is sluggish in her veins, altering her perceptions as the Blue Fairy hacks away at them. And after that confrontation, she’d stopped believing that she and Regina could ever have a future together.

 

She doesn’t mention it now, not when they’re all so _happy_ and they don’t need to think about any of it. Not Zelena, not Tamara-Dorothy, not the Blue Fairy making plans that might include them all. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they can worry about the fate of the world.

 

“And you still gave me your heart,” Regina is saying, awestruck. “You still…with someone actively taking that faith from you, you still…” 

 

“I love you,” Emma says simply. Hadn’t it been as easy as that? 

 

Henry mumbles, “You’re both such _dorks_. Love you too,” he adds before Emma can demand to know what a dork is, and his eyes are finally drifting closed. Emma leans over to press a tentative kiss to his temple, and Regina nudges him until he climbs up the stairs with her to his bedroom.

 

Emma sits alone on the couch and…she doesn’t know quite how to describe it, this bubble of peace rising within her, but what’s more unexpected is the way the tears slide out of her eyes again, _againagainagain_ , she’s spent too much time crying today. She balls her hands into fists and scrubs at her eyes with her knuckles, and she’s smiling so hard she thinks she might burst at the exhilaration and the utter devastation warring within her.

 

She’s lost so much.

 

She’s _found_ so much.

 

A lifetime of scraping away at their happy endings, and Emma’s never found ecstasy until tonight, surrounded by her family and so much love that she can still hardly believe that it’s real. This is what she’s been fighting for. This is _victory_ , even if there are still more battles to come. 

 

She stops trying to stop the tears and lets them run over her fists instead. She’s always guarded her smile until now, wary of letting it free when there’s still so much hurt to come, but today she surrenders and _beams_ , so bright that it has her even more teary-eyed than before. 

 

And then, a hand on her shoulder, and a glass extended to her. “Cider?” Regina suggests, her own eyes a little wet as she regards Emma.

 

“No,” Emma says, and Regina’s brow furrows until Emma rises in a rush of euphoria and hauls Regina into her arms like she’s weightless, Regina laughing helplessly as Emma staggers forward. 

 

She sets the glass down and strokes Emma’s biceps, slow and tantalizing. “Even these arms can’t manage me up the stairs,” she warns her. Her hands go to Emma’s cheeks and this kiss is like a rush of blood to Emma’s head, dizzying, intoxicating, _loving_. 

 

Emma makes a good go of it but they both give up halfway up the stairs and it’s so… _fun_ , god. They’re kissing their way up the stairs and they’re stumbling and tripping into each other and Emma can’t stop laughing, not even once they finally make it into the master bedroom and Regina is tugging at the skin of her stomach with tiny bites. Not even once she’s peaking and once Regina’s tumbling over her own edges and they’re locked together with boundless energy, wanting nothing more than to give each other all they have.

 

And they’re both laughing and they’re crying and it’s so different, looking into Regina’s eyes and seeing only wonder, hearing the stilted sentences they can’t quite get out of _is this–? are we–?_ and the unspoken _can this really last?_ that shines and glows between them as strong as the multicolored magic that had broken the curse. And Emma kisses Regina and tastes salt and sweetness and forever, all wrapped together in a package she’d never dreamed could be theirs.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up an hour later to the sound of clicking heels and a low, “Emma Swan?”

 

She covers herself in a rush and sits up, a hand reaching to Regina’s shoulder to rouse her. 

 

Tamara presses a finger to her lips and Emma hesitates mid-touch. “Emma Swan,” she says again. “We need to talk.” 


	16. Chapter 16

The window is just a hair out of reach, but Emma’s been climbing trees for most of her life and it’s child’s play to swing along the branches to land in a crouch on the sliding roof of the convent. Still, she’s performing just a little, and she scowls when she trips and hears the snicker above her. “Keep it down, farmgirl.” 

 

“You sure you don’t need a lift?” Tamara clicks her heels again and teleports to the next-highest roof of the building. Her arms are folded and her face is smug and Emma _really_ dislikes her.

 

“You know, you talk a good game about magic being the root of all evil or whatever, but you still won’t take those shoes off, will you?”

 

Tamara shrugs. “Have to even the odds somehow, don’t I?” But she looks troubled at the question. “I will take them off. When this world is finally rid of magic, they’ll be the last thing I burn. But for now…” She waves her hand at the convent. “We have work to do.” 

 

“You have work to do. I haven’t decided if there’s a _we_ yet.” Tamara’s nighttime invasion had done nothing but persuade Emma to scope out the convent, and even that had been reluctant. “You tortured Regina.”

 

“It was all Home Office-mandated.” Tamara shrugs, not looking very sorry at all. “I do my job, Swan. And she had magic.” She pauses, thoughtful. “What I do find interesting is that the Home Office informed me I was coming back here days ago. Zelena’s being played here and someone else is feeding us her info.”

 

Emma ignores her excuses. “You know that as soon as we get off of this roof, I’m going to Regina, right?”

 

“No,” Tamara says immediately.

 

“Yes!” Emma says, disbelieving. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, but if you think I’m going to fall into the trap of keeping secrets from Regina _this soon_ into the rest of our lives–“ 

 

“No,” Tamara says again. “You don’t understand.” Her face is taut with tension, her arms still folded but more tightly now. “Listen, if there’s a war here, it’s going to be between magic and non-magic. I was engaged to Neal once. I know all about you. And I know we have the same feelings on magic.” 

 

“Your information is outdated.” But Emma shifts as she climbs, uncomfortable. Yes, they probably do have the same feelings on magic. Emma’s desire to restore Regina’s magic has always been exclusively about trusting Regina in spite of it, not because of it. Magic supersedes the needs of the many for magic-users’ selfish purposes, and Emma would only mourn it for Regina’s sake.

 

“This will become a war to defeat the witches of this town,” Tamara repeats. “Us against Zelena. Do you think Regina will allow us to stop her?” 

 

“I don’t know. But she’ll–“

 

“Do you want to put her in that position? Where she has to choose between her sister and you?” 

 

“I want to give her _choices_ ,” Emma says wearily. “Can we just…?” She motions to the window and slides down, smug at last at a position that Tamara can’t click her heels and follow. Tamara lies flat at the edge of the roof, peering over the edge into the window.

 

The Blue Fairy is moving about inside the main auditorium, a flurry of other fairies bustling around behind her. “Ready the rooms,” she orders another blue-garbed one. “Make sure that it stays in this room. Safety is our primary concern.” She sweeps out of the room, the other fairies following, and Emma fiddles with the window opening with little luck.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a thief?” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to shut up?” Emma catches the latch with her lock pick, unscrewing the hinges of the window as Tamara reappears inside the convent. Tamara grins, mouthing _suit yourself_ as Emma drops carefully into the room.

 

And then they both look around and their eyes widen. The view from the window hadn’t made clear what can be seen hovering against the walls of the room, and Emma had only seen colored walls and thought that it had been a mural.

 

It isn’t a mural.

 

The whole room is shrouded in fairy dust, enough that it hangs thick from the ceiling and adds layers to the walls around them. It’s an explosion of color around them, fine and magical and Tamara flinches as Emma gapes. 

 

“Well,” Emma says finally. “If you wanted proof that Blue’s up to something…” She knows the fairies store their dust but in such huge quantities it can be volatile. It’s why it’s mined underground, spread out over large caverns, and only tiny pockets of it stay with the fairies. “It’s been…what, five days since we got here? No way all this dust was collected in just five–“ 

 

There’s the sound of voices outside and Tamara grabs her by the arm and clicks her heels, the room fading out of sight just as Blue stalks back in. Emma blinks and they’re in a nursery, not unlike the one Henry had had as a baby.

 

“Why couldn’t you just get us in that way in the first place?” Oh, _right,_ because Emma had insisted on it. She winces. “Where are we, anyway?”

 

“We’re…” Tamara looks vaguely nauseated. “Do any of the fairies have kids?” 

 

“I think their kids hatch from flowers or something? Not like us. Why?” 

 

Tamara stares around the room again, tracing the edge of a crib with her knuckles. “Because we’re still in the convent.” 

 

* * *

 

Henry’s school is a busy little building just outside the center of town, far enough that he has to take a car– no, _bus_ – to it but not so far that he can’t walk back with Emma at the end of the day. “What did you do all day now that Mom’s back at work?” he asks curiously, swinging their joined hands between them as they walk.

 

She keeps her answers vague. “I followed up on some leads from before the curse.” Tamara is with Mulan and Lancelot now, under their watchful eyes up until the moment she has enough and clicks her heels and goes. Emma rubs her temples, exhausted at the thought of another fight so soon after the last one. She just wants to… “Hey, kid. How about we drop by Regina’s work and bring her something to eat?” 

 

Henry brightens. “Donuts. She likes donuts. Okay, I like donuts. But she likes us.” 

 

He smiles winningly and she ruffles his hair, affectionate. “What’s a donut?”

 

A _donut_ is another food worth casting curses over. “What is it about this place? Why is everything so _good_?” Emma demands, her mouth full as they depart Granny’s. “Is it some special property of this realm?” 

 

“It’s electric mixers,” Henry says matter-of-factly. “I bet your dough was all lumpy.” He points at the dramatically towering building up ahead. “There’s town hall.” 

 

“Right.” Emma checks the box to make sure they’ve left a donut for Regina and squints up at the building speculatively. “Listen, Henry, why don’t you go ahead? I’ll meet you up there. Take your time.” 

 

Henry gives her an odd look but shrugs and takes the donuts from her, heading for the entrance. Emma circles the building, finding a good tree and making her way up to the roof. Whatever she might say about this town, they’re rather fond of trees decorating their buildings in a way that no full-fledged village back home could handle structurally.

 

Regina’s window is already open, and Emma begins to slide down to it when she hears a familiar voice wafting out over the trees. “I’m not asking for your help,” Zelena is saying.

 

“I’m not offering help,” Regina snaps back. “I just want to make sure that the people I love are safe. And _you_ – You have done nothing but make us all unsafe.” 

 

“Regina,” Zelena breathes, and Emma can imagine Regina’s face as she softens and folds, as she gives her sister far more leeway than she deserves. And in fact, when Emma peers over the edge of the window, Zelena’s arms are around Regina and Regina is standing stiffly in her embrace until her shoulders droop and she closes her eyes. “I thought you were dead,” Zelena whispers. “I gave Emma Henry, didn’t I promise you that? I won’t punish you anymore, I swear.” 

 

Regina says, “And if Glinda wills it?” and there’s a knock at the door. Zelena vanishes in a puff of smoke and Henry pushes the doors open.

 

“Mom!” He beams, setting down the donuts and dropping into her office chair. “We thought we’d come pick you up from work.” 

 

Regina kisses his cheek, absentmindedly leaning against the desk opposite him. “ _We_ , dear?” She looks at the door, frowning. And then, with dawning realization, at the window. “Emma,” she says, her eyes on where she’s crouched on the sill.

 

And it’s another moment where Emma can’t grasp what it is that has Regina take a second breath, hard and quick, and stride across the room to help her into the room. Emma slides down from the window and into Regina’s arms, and Regina gives her a breathless kiss, soft laughter in her eyes and throat. “What is it?” Emma murmurs, searching her eyes.

 

“It’s…so self-indulgent,” Regina mutters, but she’s still smiling. “I just…there were so many times when I’d imagine you doing exactly that, breaking into my office during work like it was my balcony in the castle, and…” She runs her fingers through Emma’s hair, settling it back down. “You’re _here_.” 

 

“I’m here,” Emma says, kissing her swiftly. She’s smiling like an idiot, she knows it, and she doesn’t care at all. “And hey– if that’s your poison, I am fully prepared to pick up where we left off.” She spreads her fingers open, revealing earrings she’d just snatched right out of Regina’s earlobes.

 

Henry watches them with fascination and a healthy amount of teenage embarrassment. Regina says, “You really need a day job. Also, to let me teach you about what a post-barter economy means for thieves in this day and age.” She says it gravely, and Emma has to search before she finds the amusement gleaming in her eyes.

 

She leans against Regina’s shoulder for a moment, staring outside as Regina fiddles with some papers. “So I’ve spoken to the sheriff about your missing men, but no sign of them yet– Sheriff. You should be sheriff.” 

 

Emma eyes her for a minute to gauge her seriousness. The last time she’d been around a sheriff, it had been the Sheriff of Nottingham back during the years she and Regina had been avoiding each other and she’d made a fool of him a dozen times before he’d slunk off away from the Enchanted Forest. This may be…different. “Who’s the sheriff now? This Graham person?” 

 

“He was one of my most trusted lieutenants back in the other realm,” Regina says. “I sent him to cut out Snow’s heart, actually.” She grins to herself in fond remembrance. 

 

Emma arches an eyebrow. “ _Runs-With-Wolves_? You’ve been counting on Runs-With-Wolves to police your town?” She makes a face as though she hasn’t resented him since the words _most trusted lieutenant_ had left Regina’s mouth. “What, does he bark real loudly when there’s trouble?” 

 

“Emma!” Regina says reproachfully. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wolves _howl_.” 

 

“I thought you said that Ma lived in the woods,” Henry says, eyeing Emma with deep-rooted disappointment. “Don’t you know Ruby?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes at both of them, growing serious again. “So how does that work? Do you just dismiss him as sheriff and give me the job? Does he have a family to feed?” she says, suddenly worried.

 

“There’s an election next spring,” Henry says, flipping through a calendar. “Do you know about democracy?”

 

Emma sets that aside– _is democracy a kind of building? Maybe a dessert?_ – and says, “Next spring is a long time from now.” 

 

“We’ll be here,” Regina says firmly. “All of us.” Emma reaches for her wrist and loops two fingers loosely around it. “There’s money in the budget for another deputy, at the very least. You can see if you like it.” 

 

It’s dizzying, being with family and planning for a future. Emma’s stability until now has only been in confidence in her skills and her men, in knowing the woods and the kingdom and knowing how to make a home anywhere. The idea of coming to a house at the end of the day– of having the same work to go to each day, guided by structure instead of her whims–

 

It’s astonishing how appealing it sounds now. 

 

She hasn’t thought about living that kind of life in years, not since Henry had been a baby and Regina’s castle had been home. When they’d lived there during the missing year, it had still felt transient, a home base instead of an actual home. But now that she has a family who is incontrovertibly so, she’s beginning to dream of _domestication_ all over again, of breakfasts together and lazy afternoons and days where the world doesn’t have to change for her.

 

As long as they can overcome whatever final battle it is that Tamara keeps hinting at, and Emma remembers Zelena with her arms around Regina as Regina closes her eyes and accepts what she’s saying. “So, what did I miss today?” she says brightly. “Anything interesting happen at work?” 

 

“Nothing at all,” Regina says, and her eyes flicker downward as Emma’s face falls.

 

* * *

 

It’s not that she has to know everything about Regina’s life. They keep some things to themselves by nature- they’re both at their core private people who complement each other, and sometimes it takes time before they show all their cards.

 

But it’s been under a day since they’d shared a true love’s kiss and remembered how far they’d come. It’s been just moments since the promise of a future together. And it burns just a little that Regina is lying to her already. 

 

And maybe that’s why she excuses herself from her family as they walk home, citing a promise to Mulan to catch up with her. Regina eyes her like she knows she’s lying, which… _good_. She chews at her lip and silently vows that they’re going to get to the bottom of this soon.

 

There are a half dozen little cabins in the woods outside of town, dotting the surroundings and fully stocked by the curse. Only three are occupied now that so many of the Merry Men are still under Zelena’s spells– Mulan’s, Lancelot’s, and their guest’s.

 

“Aren’t you being hunted by Zelena or something?” Emma demands when she stalks into the cabin, raring for a fight.

 

Tamara rolls her eyes. “Zelena isn’t much of a hunter when her prey can fight back.” She flicks her remote again– _taser,_ Regina had called it last night– and Emma glares at it and doesn’t back up. 

 

“It’s almost like she has some kind of traumatic history with your methods or something,” she says sarcastically, feeling oddly defensive of a woman who’d proven to be more than a menace to them. Still, Zelena loves Regina in whatever twisted way she can, and that means something more than Tamara does. “That potion–“ 

 

Tamara laughs. “Oh, she gave you a sob story, didn’t she? Of course she did,” she answers herself, and eyes Emma calculatingly. “You know, we’re not that different.” 

 

“You and Zelena?” 

 

Tamara scoffs. “You and I.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma says, unimpressed. “Because I’m not magic’s biggest fan?” 

 

Tamara opens the fridge and pulls out a pair of apples, tossing one to Emma. “We were both little orphan girls thrust into the company of a witch,” she clarifies, and there’s something in her eyes that’s too knowing for a stranger she’s only just met. “Innocent, longing for a home, _utterly infatuated_.” She laughs at Emma’s expression. “I was meant to be her enemy and instead I would have followed her anywhere. Sound familiar?” 

 

Frighteningly so. “Who told you…?” 

 

“Your friends talk.” Tamara nods toward the other cabins. _Those traitors_. “When Glinda let it slip that my ruby slippers were my ticket home all along– that Zelena _knew_ it and kept it from me?” 

 

Emma is taken back for a moment to the stables, to being trapped in a storm while Regina and Zelena talk and to Zelena’s admission.  _I didn’t tell her what the shoes could do. I didn’t want to be alone again._

 

“I could have been home– been home and back to Oz again, as many times as I’d wanted– if she hadn’t been so determined to _keep_ me,” Tamara says. “So I hurt her. I hadn’t wanted to. And I left Oz with the Wizard and my ruby slippers. I thought…I’d thought that we were from the same place, but we weren’t.”  

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I came from this land. The Land Without Magic.” Tamara waves her hand around the room. Her face is pained as she speaks, every emotion careful as she allows them to emerge, and maybe Emma’s being manipulated but she still sees the truth in Tamara’s eyes. “He was from the Land Without Color.” 

 

(And another memory, this one less clear than the last, of a girl in a crystal ball wearing bright colors in a dim world. _Dorothy Gale_ , Regina had read off a paper in the Dark Castle.)

 

“When we got there, it became quickly apparent that Victor hadn’t brought me home at all. And so I tried using the shoes over and fucking over until I was jumping realms so fast that I’d be bleeding from the pressure of it. I just…I wanted to be _home_.” She laughs tiredly. Emma bites into her apple and studies Tamara as she speaks. She’s always thought she’s been good at reading people, and while there’s none of Zelena’s unrestrained bitterness in Tamara, there’s still quiet agony.

 

“It took me years,” Tamara says. “And when I came home, I discovered that my extended family had been murdered on the night I’d left Oz. I was a prime suspect. Turns out the cops don’t really give you the benefit of the doubt when you’re a runaway black kid in Kansas. So I changed my name, clicked my heels, ran off to the big city.” She leans forward. “I didn’t know until I found out she was still alive. But now I get it. Zelena murdered my family because I poured a little bit of water on her head. 

 

“So don’t tell me this isn’t justified,” she says fiercely. “Don’t tell me there are two sides to this story. When Victor called me when the curse broke here, of course I came to destroy magic and destroy selfish  _witches_ who fuck up everyone and don’t care. And if the Home Office says that there’s a war on, you can bet your ass that I’m going to fight to wipe out magic. And you should too.” 

 

She holds up a hand before Emma can speak. “And I get it, I get that you want to keep your wife safe.” Emma’s eyes widen a crack at _that_ title for Regina, but she doesn’t comment on it. “I can work with you on that if you’re with me. But I won’t budge on Zelena. Do you understand what she’s capable of now?” 

 

“No,” Emma says.

 

Tamara scowls. “Don’t be naive.” 

 

“No,” Emma repeats, a little louder. “Zelena didn’t kill your family, Tamara. You _poisoned_ her. She was half-dead for ages after that day and she lost her powers after that. She wouldn’t have made it to the Land Without Magic after what you did to her.” 

 

Tamara is silent, dark eyes brimming with resentment. Emma says, her mind working quickly, “Maybe you were right. Maybe there is someone playing Zelena. And we know that the fairies are connected to her and those two babies.”

 

Tamara looks unconvinced. “Yeah? Who?” 

 

“Glinda, Tamara.” And Emma knows with sudden clarity who she’d seen hiding upstairs in the farmhouse yesterday. “Blue is working with Glinda.” 

 

* * *

 

Snow and David come for dinner with news about the town and the chase that’s still going on. “Zelena just…popped into my classroom,” Snow says, shaking her head with marked annoyance. “A few of the children recognized her and it disrupted the class for an hour.”

 

“That’s my sister.” Regina sounds very pleased about it and earns a reproving glare from Snow that swiftly fades into fondness. Emma twitches and doesn’t say a word.

 

Henry and David are in comfortable sync with each other, filling them in on their year together as Regina leans in, eyes bright as she drinks in every word. Emma drums her fingers against her knees, struggling to listen as more pressing thoughts weigh down on her.

 

Finally, it’s too much to endure in this brightly lit room where her family sits around and laughs like the worst is over. Emma’s head is aching and she stands without speaking and slips out of the room. No one seems to notice except David, who touches a solicitous hand to her back as she moves past his chair, and then returns to his story.

 

It feels as though all she’s been doing lately is climbing on roofs, and she rolls her eyes at herself and makes her way onto the balcony in the master bedroom and up to the roof above it. It’s quiet up here in the dark, the sky above her gleaming with the same stars as at home. Lying on a roof and staring up at the sky, there’s nothing about this world or the people within it that feels foreign or untouchable. 

 

She makes one decision while she’s outside. No matter what– if Regina's hiding Zelena from her– she isn’t going to do the same. She won’t play this game of secrets and lies, not when she’s afraid it’ll all come tumbling down. Not when she _wants_ Regina to know what Tamara’s up to and to be prepared with her. She’d thought they’d be a team now, not two people living in the same house and worlds apart.

 

She sits up, pressing her hands to her feet and staring out at the road below, and there’s a slight wind behind her and then the sound of shifting as Regina sits down beside her. “Are you all right?” 

 

“Yeah.” She lies back again, seeking the peace of the stars. “Just feeling a little claustrophobic.” 

 

A pause, and then Regina is tugging off her formal work jacket and joining her, back against the roof and her feet slipping out of their heels. “I was worried you might have that issue. You’ve always loved your freedom. Green fields and long trips and everywhere to go, right?” 

 

So had Regina, before it had all been taken from her. Emma licks her lips, uncomfortable. “Not like that. I like this town, I do.” Regina exhales in a soft breath. “Just…it’s nothing.”

 

“Okay,” Regina says, and doesn’t question her further, instead leaning over to kiss her, long and rich, until Emma has a hand at the nape of her neck and her toes are curling and they’re probably going to fall off the roof. “Snow is doing homework with Henry,” Regina breathes. “I can soundproof and lock our room.” 

 

Emma sucks hard at her jaw in response and they slide off the roof together, hands entwined as they stumble down to the balcony and then into the master bedroom. Regina gives her a little shove back onto the bed and Emma lounges on it, watching with hungry eyes as Regina peels off her shirt and slacks to reveal red lace and smooth warm-toned skin beneath it. 

 

“I can–“ Emma says, reaching for her jacket, and Regina puts a foot on the bed, squarely between her legs. Emma licks her lips and runs her fingers up along her calves, drawing out tiny sighs from Regina. “Or not.” She strokes her thigh, achingly slow, and brushes soaked fabric with the tips of her fingers as Regina groans. 

 

Her fingers linger for another moment and Regina says imperiously, “Lady Swan, if you don’t _do_ something about that, I swear I will–“ 

 

“What?” Emma says, a thrill rising through her. “Punish me?” 

 

Regina jerks forward, her center slamming into Emma’s knuckles, and climbs fully onto her bed. “Oh, _yes_ ,” she purrs, her tongue sliding along the shell of Emma’s ear ever-so-lightly. Emma shudders and slips her fingers past crimson lace at last, and Regina is still as responsive as she’d been the night before, keening with the touch and twisting desperately against Emma. 

 

It’s all a blur after that, sharp words and sharp teeth and Regina above-below-above again and Emma’s claustrophobia is fading into vague unease that she ignores as best as she can in favor of _touching, touching,_ too many years and too much time alone making them both crave each other more deeply. Last night had been laughter and release but tonight is sweat-drenched and needy, again and again and again until Emma’s body feels limp like jelly and Regina is curled up against her, their foreheads bumping and their legs wound together.

 

Their gazes are locked and Emma peers in Regina’s and sees only peace in them, only love, glowing with decades of growth. She struggles to recall why she’d been upset but can’t seem to figure it out, not with Regina’s thumb painting circles against her hip and her eyes sleepy and warm.

 

And then Regina says, “There is something I wanted to talk to you about, now that we’re alone. I didn’t want Henry or Snow to get wind of this.” 

 

_Right._ Emma strains to keep her voice even. “Oh?” 

 

“Zelena came to see me today,” Regina says, and Emma expels a breath with such relief that she can feel the force of it burning at her eyes.

 

“I know,” she murmurs, forgetting her filter completely. “I saw her with you.” 

 

“You didn’t say…” Regina’s voice trails off, her brow furrowing as the afterglow begins to wear off. “You thought I was keeping it from you. Are you testing me now?” 

 

Emma shakes her head with quiet vehemence. “No! No. I thought you’d tell me, that’s all.” 

 

And Regina knows her too well, as she always has. “That’s why you were up there hiding from everyone. You’ve been upset about this.” She takes a breath, freeing irritation from her voice until it’s soft and even. “Emma, I know we have…a lot of history, but you need to have some faith in me or we’ll–“ She cuts herself off.

 

“Lose each other again?” Emma finishes, voicing the fears that Regina won’t speak. “Yeah,” she murmurs, an admission to something neither of them have said. “Me too.”

 

Regina laughs softly, her fingers trailing down to run along her stomach. “It was simpler when we knew that we were doomed, wasn’t it? I was going down…the path I’d chosen and you were hiding Snow away from me, and we never even dared think of the future because there wasn’t going to be one.” 

 

“I can see us being happy,” Emma whispers. “I can see a future. I don’t know…” She laughs too, high and a little frantic. “I don’t know how to believe it’s real.” 

 

Regina leans forward, pressing her lips against Emma’s. “We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? If we survive whatever it is that Tamara has planned–” 

 

“Total annihilation of magic,” Emma puts in. At Regina’s look, she says, “What, you think you’re the only one getting roped into conspiracies?” 

 

“And you were going to tell me this when?” Regina looks as suspicious as Emma had before, equally disappointed in Emma’s secret.

 

“Now.” Regina quirks an eyebrow. “I was! Tamara thinks that Zelena’s being manipulated.” 

 

“Tamara _tortured_ me.” 

 

“And Zelena crushed your heart!” Emma sighs, curling her fingers into Regina’s hair in apology. “Listen, I know that they’re both…questionable. But you’re going to trust Zelena when I don’t think she’s the one calling the shots. And we know that she’ll hurt you if you get in her way.” 

 

“She kept her promise about Henry,” Regina says stubbornly.

 

“She cut his hand open and used him for her spell. Don’t tell me you’re okay with that.” 

 

“I’m not. I am…the opposite of _okay with that_. But I have no reason to trust Tamara, either.” 

 

Emma raises Regina’s hand from her hip and brings it to her lips, kissing a path down Regina’s wrist. “Then trust me,” she says. “When you were poisoned back home and Zelena and I were working on your cure, I found fairy dust in my old cabin. I confronted Blue and she admitted that she’d taken Henry before the curse.”

 

“Ah.” Regina doesn’t sound surprised. Emma frowns at her and goes on.

 

“And then she loaded me up with fairy-kindness and told me we were terrible for each other and I _believed_ her. Regina– I think she took my courage away. And Tamara and I went to the convent today and they’re storing fairy dust _everywhere_ , and they’ve set up a nursery. A _nursery!_ I don’t trust Tamara either, but I do trust that Blue is up to something.”

 

Regina pulls away abruptly, shrugging on a robe as Emma sits up in confusion. “Come with me,” she says, and Emma has barely enough time to start buttoning Regina’s blouse over her bare legs before purple smoke surrounds them and they emerge in some kind of cave.

 

No– a vault. They’re underground and Regina busies herself with pulling out containers and potions from shelves, waving a hand so the room is lit by candles. “Where are we?” Emma asks.

 

“My secret lair,” Regina says, straight-faced. She laughs at Emma’s expression. “We’re in my family mausoleum. My parents are buried upstairs. There’s also…” She hesitates. “Well. You can go see.” 

 

Emma walks up the stairs, shivering in her half-dressed state and peering around in the dimly lit room, and then she catches sight of it. It isn’t quite like a tombstone, not like the graves where Henry and Cora Mills are interred, but there’s her name carved in stone and a small table built into it, and candles flickering in front of it as though they’ve been enchanted to never die.

 

The weight of Regina’s love hits her like a ton of bricks. Regina _loves_ her, had loved her when she’d been taken from the curse and had loved her ever since. Regina had been mourning her while she’d been loathing Regina, and while Emma would still defend that resentment as justified, knowing what she had then, she’s still gaping in awe at this… _memorial_ in Regina’s family crypt. At the idea of having been a part of Regina’s world even when she’d been realms away.

 

She walks back downstairs, a bit shaky on her feet, and Regina presents her with two little square vials of something ice-blue and smoking. “This is an old remedy,” she says, propping them between her fingers. “Passed down from my mother and Rumplestiltskin. Try it.” 

 

“Your mother?” Emma repeats suspiciously.

 

“My mother trusted fairies as little as you do,” Regina clarifies. “This is meant as an antidote to fairy-kindness. Drink up,” she orders. Emma swallows, feeling warmth spread through her veins, ridding the last bits of sluggishness from her. “One should be enough, but hold onto the other one in case you’re still feeling the aftereffects.”

 

Emma gulps down the last few drops of the potion and pockets the other. “Thanks.” 

 

“The Blue Fairy can’t be a villain,” Regina says when she’s done. “I wish…I think it’d be easier if she could. But whatever happened with your courage, it couldn’t have been intentional.” 

 

“Really?” Emma demands disbelievingly. “She kidnapped Henry!” 

 

“And neither of us are surprised about that,” Regina says patiently. “She also misled you into believing there was only space in that wardrobe for one.” Emma’s eyes widen. “But we’d thought it was her all along. We know her motivation– to break the curse. That has nothing to do with Zelena.” 

 

“And the fairy dust? The _nursery_?” 

 

Regina shakes her head. “If you hadn’t left so soon, you’d have heard at dinner. After we told Snow and Aurora about Zelena’s plans, they asked Blue for help. As much as it pains me to admit it, there’s nothing suspicious about any of this.”

 

“Regina–“ 

 

“Emma…” Regina looks reluctant to say what she does next. “I know that you have this… _thing_ with Blue, and I do understand where you’re coming from. I’m on your side!” she points out. “I’d squash that pesky little fly with my bare hands if I could.” 

 

Emma can’t believe this, can’t believe how easily Regina’s dismissed every one of her concerns. And the more she speaks in that reasonable tone, the more cracks begin to form in her theory. “But I do think that it leads you sometimes to…really idiotic conclusions,” Regina says, incapable of being patient for _too_ long. “Emma, Zelena threatened me and we spent a week in Agrabah because you were so caught up in Blue’s insistences about our relationship that it never occurred to you that _you_ could be Zelena’s bait.” 

 

“You believed it too!” 

 

“Because of the spell, yes. Not because I didn’t think you might be the one Zelena had been talking about.” She reaches for Emma and Emma dodges her grasp, still staring wide-eyed at her. “I just…we know who the mastermind is, don’t we? Isn’t it time we focused on her?” 

 

And there’s something in her voice, an odd note that has Emma frowning and scrutinizing Regina’s face. And then, slowly and reluctantly, she nods. “Yeah,” she says, deflating. “Yeah, okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> running super late, but thank you so much for all the feedback and I will endeavor to reply to the rest of last chapter as soon as i get home tonight! y'all are amazing and i'm blown away every time by your support <333


	17. Chapter 17

There had been a night, over a decade ago, when Regina and Emma had sat around a table like this, the room overwrought with tension and fear. This morning, though, Henry is at the table, and he’s looking increasingly alarmed at their monosyllabic replies and wary glances at each other. “What’s…what’s going on?” he demands finally.

 

Regina blinks at him, looking perplexed. It’s a very good false face, but Emma’s known Regina much too long to fall for the masks- as has Henry, from the way his eyes narrow. “Nothing is going on,” Regina says. “You’re going to school in a few minutes. I will go to…work.” She smiles a plastic smile at Emma. “Emma, how about you?” 

 

“Work,” Emma says, expressionless. “I have work, too.” 

 

“Of course you do.” Regina lays a hand on hers, their eyes locking with suddenly unfriendly stares. Henry drops his spoon with a clatter and rises. “I’m going to get my knapsack,” he announces, glaring at them both as he storms upstairs.

 

Regina sighs. For a moment, Emma thinks she might say _something_ , but instead she turns to the exit and hesitates in the foyer.

 

Emma hurries after her, catching her wrist, and Regina slides gladly into the kiss. They’re standing pressed to each other for even longer than the kiss lasts, breathing the same air with foreheads resting together and Emma’s hands on Regina’s waist. It’s more intimate than Emma had intended for them, but she can’t seem to pull away. “Don’t do this,” she whispers, loud enough to be overheard. “Don’t give us up for _her_.”

 

Regina buries her face in Emma’s shoulder, and Emma can feel through thin fabric the way that her lips curl up against Emma’s skin. “Don’t make me choose,” she murmurs when she raises her head again, and they pull apart with somber, stubborn faces.

 

Regina heads in the direction of the docks and Emma walks Henry to the place where that yellow monstrosity picks him up for school before she ducks into the woods. She makes a brief stop at Lancelot’s cabin and then heads to the one across the clearing.

 

“Okay, Tamara,” she says, pushing open the door. Tamara looks up at her, nonplussed. “Let’s do this.” 

 

* * *

 

The Blue Fairy stares at Emma and closes her eyes, murmuring an instinctive, “Lord give me patience,” like she’s still an acolyte or whatever religious figures they’re supposed to be in here.

 

“Is that how you say hello when people come into the convent?” Emma asks, smiling with as much affability as she can manage.

 

“Only you,” Blue says sweetly, and if Snow hadn’t been hanging onto her, Emma might’ve tried for a swipe at her. Blue turns her attention to the woman behind them. “And who is this?” 

 

Emma watches her face carefully and sees a flicker of…something stronger than recognition on Blue’s face. Of course, Tamara has had some nasty history with Regina, so that might just be appreciation. “I’m the midwife,” Tamara says, straight-faced. “Were you expecting the Wicked Witch of the West?”

 

Snow gives Tamara a dark look and turns back to Blue, smiling brightly at her. “I thought I could get a look at where I’m going to have the baby!” she says, squeezing Emma’s hand. “And my OB-GYN has some concerns about the birthing room?” 

 

“Now she gets an OB-GYN,” Tamara mutters. “Evil witch first, actual medical doctor second. This _fucking_ town.”

 

Blue ignores her, thankfully. “Let me show you the room,” she says, eyes only for Snow.

 

She leads them through the fairy dust room they’d been in last time– except now the fairy dust is gone and there are pews and some kind of podium. The room still gleams with the aftereffects of the dust, and Emma casts her eye around, searching for where it had been hidden.

 

There’s nothing. There aren’t any fairies around, either, and Emma and Tamara exchange worried looks. Blue is one step ahead of them, even now.

 

Time to sidestep.

 

“And this is the nursery,” Blue announces, gesturing to a room set up with two beds and two small cribs. “We have you and Aurora together so you’ll both have double the protection. The Wicked Witch won’t get close to you with four fairy godmothers on hand.” 

 

“Thank you,” Snow says, a flash of guilt passing over her face. Emma nudges her, wary of losing their weakest link, and when Blue moves on to show her the birthing room, Snow lets out a pitiful moan.

 

Tamara scowls at her. Snow moans louder. “Oooh. Oh. Just a stomach cramp,” she says, smiling nervously at Blue. Blue cocks her head. “Aah! That’s another one. Oh god. I think I’m in labor.” She lets out another moan, more protracted and convincing, and Blue frowns this time as though she might believe it. 

 

“What do we do?” Tamara says, her voice rising stridently.

 

Blue says, “Aren’t you the midwife?” 

 

“Sure. Right.” Tamara waves her hands in a vague motion toward Snow. “Just…sit down and prepare for labor, okay? You got all the books and shit?” Snow bobs her head, looking pained– though it might be at Tamara’s sad attempt at midwifery more than anything. 

 

Emma steps in. “When I was in labor with Henry, there were breathing exercises…” 

 

Snow immediately begins breathing, deep and loud huffs as she sits back on the birthing table, and Blue takes a step forward. “I’ll–“ She pauses, producing a phone out of nowhere. “Just a minute. Philip?” 

 

And _oh crap_ , they’d prepared for every eventuality but this one. “Aurora is in labor, too,” Blue says, and she doesn’t look surprised at all by the coincidence. “I have to go to her.” 

 

“No!” Emma says without thinking. 

 

Blue blinks at her. “Is there a problem?” 

 

“Yes, there’s a problem!” Snow cuts in. “I’m having the baby! You said you could keep me safe! Zelena is after me and–“

 

“You’ll be safe here,” Blue says, pressing a hand to Snow’s baby bump. “You have your midwife and…” Her lip curls as she assesses Emma, and Emma isn’t sure if it’s a compliment or an insult when she says, “One of the most tenacious people in Storybrooke with you. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” She hurries out the door and they watch her go with frustration.

 

The plan had been to tempt Zelena out of hiding with Snow’s labor and to force her and Blue and a revelation all into the same room. It’s a desperate plan, one without much direction, but Tamara had agreed to it and Emma’s working a bigger game. “What now?” she wonders, sinking down into a chair.

 

“We keep this up. Get Zelena here.” Tamara produces her taser. “Then we get some answers.” 

 

Emma’s eyes narrow. “Put that away.” They’re already falling apart as quickly as their big plan had, and Emma won’t be responsible for some bloodbath between Zelena and Tamara. “We’re not killing Zelena today.” 

 

“ _You’re_ not, maybe. I’m not sparing every witch with a pretty face,” Tamara scoffs.

 

“Now is not the time to get bloodthirsty–“ 

 

“No blood involved! Just science.” Tamara flashes her taser again. 

 

There’s a groan from in front of them, and they both twist to stare at the wheelchair where Snow has settled down. “Uh,” she manages. “I think Blue did something to me before she left.” She touches her stomach, sliding her hand up along it as her stomach tightens and loosens again. “I might actually be in labor now.” 

 

“No,” Emma breathes in horror. No, this is all going wrong. She had had a _plan_. 

 

Snow manages a smile. “I can still…leave it to me, okay? This isn’t my first time tangling with Regina’s family.” She quivers in her seat, moaning again. “This isn’t even that bad. I can take– AHH!” She doubles over, her eyes squeezing closed as tears leak from them, and Emma's hit with sudden fear about what exactly it is that Blue had done to her. If this is about hurting the baby...

 

"Kalla," she says urgently. "Snow, where is Kalla in this world?”

 

Tamara already has Snow’s phone in her hand, moving her thumb up and down the list of people on it and calling them. Emma paces, chewing on her lip so hard that she’s pretty sure it’s going to be swollen in a few hours.

 

They still have no idea how _babies_ fall into Blue’s plans or Zelena’s. Babies are the Blue Fairy’s purview, aren’t they? Emma remembers with the vagueness of a long-lost memory being at a baby ball thrown in Snow’s honor when Emma had been fostered by one of George’s less-liked nobles, remembers sneaking upstairs with a few other children and seeing Blue hovering over Snow’s crib protectively. And for all Blue’s issues with Emma, she’s always seemed loyal to Snow.

 

Snow and Aurora are the only two royals Emma knows of who have family fairy godmothers. Ella- Cinders-ella, the one who’d once trapped the Dark One- had had one, murdered long ago. And there’s something about the two women remaining and the babies they’re expecting that’s a little _too_ coincidental.

 

She whirls around, heading for the main room where the fairy dust had been, and the door to the convent slams open and Zelena strides in. “Oh, hello, Emma,” she says, smiling, like they’ve just bumped into each other at a village event.

 

Regina walks behind her, her eyes unreadable. Emma grabs her arm. “Regina, wait–“ 

 

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Regina growls, and Emma is hurled across the room. The force of it lessens by the time Emma hits the wall and it’s more of a gentle tap, but she still slides to the ground, eyes wide and shellshocked. Regina doesn’t spare her another glance. 

 

“Dorothy!” Zelena shouts. “Come out here and face me, you coward!” She’s trembling a little, eyes glassy and frantic, and there’s the madness flirting with them again. _Good._

 

Tamara wheels Snow out into the room, her taser in hand, and Regina flinches, barely visible if you aren’t expecting it. Emma swallows hard. Whatever split might’ve risen between them, she still doesn’t know how she’s going to forgive herself for allying with Regina’s tormenter. “Tamara–“ she croaks.

 

But Tamara just stands there, eyes glinting with stubborn defiance as she glares at Zelena, and she looks so very young. Both of them do. Emma can imagine them now, girls who’d been thrown into a strange world and lied to, manipulated, used every step of the way by those with a greater agenda than their safety.

 

_Both little orphan girls thrust into the company of a witch_ , Tamara had described herself and Emma. Little girls who’d seen humanity and been brokenhearted by lies. Girls who’d fought back and run and broken hearts in return. “Dorothy,” Zelena says again, stretching her hands out to fire a blow at her, and Tamara still stands in silence.

 

And Snow, Emma’s sister– Emma’s sister with a grasp of people that can be frighteningly cruel– says, “Are you going to take my baby?” 

 

Zelena starts. “Am I…Of course I am,” she says nastily, glaring down at Snow. “Not like you have the brain cells necessary to raise a child. Be grateful.” 

 

“Grateful for you doing to a child what Cora did to you?” Snow murmurs.

 

Regina rumbles warningly, “Snow…” but her eyes flicker once to Emma’s set expression and she falls silent. 

 

“Grateful for another child being rejected from her family because you’re…what, following orders?” Snow is picking her words carefully, her eyes crinkling in what looks like sympathy as Zelena simmers with uncontrolled energy. “Is Glinda really worth it?” 

 

Zelena eyes flash. “You know _nothing_ about her.” 

 

“I know that she’s been using you as a servant, just as Cora did,” Snow leans back against the chair, hands clawing at her sides for a moment as a contraction hits. There’s sweat beading at her forehead but her eyes don’t move from Zelena’s, nor does her compassionate smile fade. “I know that you spent years helpless in a new land and she didn’t come for you until you were powerful again. Didn’t you think about it when you saw what Emma would do for Regina? Where were the people who loved you?”

 

Zelena quivers. Snow says, smile still pained on her face, “Have you ever been anything more than a tool to Glinda?” 

 

Zelena roars forward, unleashed and wild and furious, and her hands are gripped around Snow’s throat a moment later. Tamara tenses on her taser but Regina growls, “Don’t you dare,” and she drops it, frowning.

 

Snow chokes and Zelena hisses, words coming and going like sharp breaths, “How dare you. You know _nothing_. I’m in control. I’m in– I’m in–“ Her hands tighten and Snow is beginning to turn colors, her hands waving frantically in front of her.

 

_One more second,_ Emma vows silently. One more second and they take action if it doesn’t work and–

 

Glinda appears.

 

She waves her wand and turns in a circle, showering all of them with sparks, and Regina recoils as Zelena jerks up, eyes eager and afraid as she releases Snow. Glinda’s voice is oily and sugar-sweet, and even Tamara watches her warily. “Ah,” she says. “My dear Zelena, I did worry you’d become a liability.” Zelena slumps, eyes wide with stunned betrayal.

 

And then she crooks her finger at Tamara. “That’s why you’re here, child.” 

 

Tamara stands still, her knuckles nearly pink as they squeeze against the handles of the wheelchair. “I work for the Home Office. Not for witches and magic.” 

 

Glinda laughs, high and echoing in the hall, and Emma tenses against the wall. This, she’d suspected and never said a word to Tamara. And if they'd gambled wrong– “Oh, dear,” Glinda says. “There is no Home Office. I am your home.”

 

Tamara’s lips thin and her eyes slit. She doesn’t get angry like Zelena, lashing out and hurting everyone around her, but there’s something dangerous about her like this, as though she could blink and strike out without anyone stopping her. “You’re lying.” 

 

“I cleansed Oz of darkness,” Glinda coos. “I took the worst of the children– I always know which children are Bad and which are Good–“ And her eyes focus on Snow’s stomach with sharp knowledge. “I sent the Bad ones to Neverland for Peter Pan. I had my dear wizard look after you. I knew this day would come.” She smiles at a frozen Zelena. “You, Dorothy, have been destined to remove the child I always knew would betray our cause.” 

 

Zelena shakes her head wildly. “No, Glinda, I wasn’t going to touch the baby! I wouldn’t– I didn’t–“ 

 

“Shut up,” Tamara snarls, and Glinda beams. “No, you shut up, too. The Home Office wants to contain magic.” 

 

“ _Dark_ magic,” Glinda corrects her. “Like Zelena’s. Haven’t you been waiting for all this time to finish her off? Now’s your chance, for the greater good.” She waves her hand and something beeps in Tamara’s pocket. “Your orders,” she says sleekly, as Tamara pulls a phone out of her pocket and stares at it in horror. “Kill the unworthy.” 

 

Tamara takes a step forward– Regina screams, _No!_ and Zelena screams with her but with rage, the sisters’ voices echoing through the room together as Glinda trills a laugh– and Emma fumbles for her bow from her spot on the floor and points it at the whole scene. 

 

And then Tamara takes another step past Zelena and activates her taser, plunging it against Glinda’s ample chest. “You killed my family,” she says, low and furious.

 

Glinda shakes her head sweetly, waving her wand and giggling as though the taser is only a tickle. “Victor made sure you would have no distractions. You’re a very special girl, Dorothy.” She frowns at the taser. “But this is poor behavior. I’m afraid you may be beyond saving, after all.” She raises her voice. “Zelena,” she says.

 

Regina is standing in front of Zelena, guarding her and Snow from Glinda and Tamara. “No,” she says, and she sounds desperate. They all have opposing agendas today, all locked in by alliances and by their own private plans, and Emma knows that Regina’s will be at odds the moment Glinda makes her command.

 

“Zelena,” Glinda repeats, and hope blazes past the defeat in Zelena’s eyes. “Perhaps I do still have use for you.”

 

Zelena blows past Regina toward Tamara, a green fireball springing into her palm. Tamara flicks her taser but it doesn’t light up with electricity this time, just shorts out and stops working altogether, and she takes a step back and breathes out a  _“Fuck.”_ Zelena stares at her, the other woman helpless and unarmed, and Tamara meets her gaze grimly. There’s only a hint of vulnerability beneath it.

 

Glinda laughs gaily and claps her hands together. “Don’t trust too much in your science,” she says coyly. “You never know when it’ll fail you. Zelena, end her.” 

 

“Zelena, _no_ ,” Regina says, and Zelena hesitates with a fireball in hand. Tamara backs up, flattening herself against the stage at the front of the room, and Glinda steps aside with a smile still on her face and her eyes on Snow. Emma keeps her crossbow steady, finding Glinda with it. _No_. There’s no use. Glinda can wave away her blows and defend herself with that wand, and right now, Emma can’t waste her position outside of the scuffle.

 

“Zelena,” Regina says again. “Snow was right. She doesn’t love you.” 

 

Glinda scoffs. “How dare you. Zelena is mine. Of course I love her.” 

 

“She tortured you, Regina,” Zelena says, the words spitting out rapid-fire. “She poisoned me.” 

 

Regina doesn’t defend Tamara, doesn’t speak about forgiveness or redemption. Regina still looks at Tamara with wariness and underlying loathing. “Yes,” Regina says, laying a hand on Zelena's wrist. “But she isn’t the enemy.” 

 

Zelena tears away and hurls the fireball toward Tamara. Regina vanishes and reappears in front of her target, catching the fireball and letting it dissolve into thin air. “No!” Zelena shrieks. “No, my vengeance–“ 

 

Regina surges forward and catches her arms, wraps her hands tight around Zelena as she twists in what’s kind of an embrace, kind of a restraining hold, and Zelena stares at Glinda’s face as it becomes dark and disapproving. “No, no, no,” she chants, shrinking back deeper into Regina’s arms. “I can’t– I failed–“ 

 

Regina is murmuring something into Zelena’s ear and Zelena shivers and sinks down to the floor as Regina releases her, pale and terrified and miserable under Glinda’s thunderous gaze. Glinda swipes a hand and Tamara goes flying, too, her limbs tangling with Zelena’s as she picks herself up from the floor and then sinks down beside Zelena, the two of them glaring at each other with a helpless kind of rage.

 

“Watch her,” Regina orders them both, and they stare at her with disbelief. “Do it.” She turns back to Glinda. “And you…” 

 

“We don’t have much time,” Glinda says, eyes on Snow. “Labor can last longer the first time, but we have to get you away from these… _influences_.” She casts a disdainful look at the rest of them, Regina with her eyes glinting dangerously and Tamara and Zelena huddled together on the ground, still gaping up at Regina as though they don’t know how to react without her guidance. 

 

And then to Emma, across the room, her crossbow raised and pointed at Regina. “Well,” Glinda says softly, pausing on her way to Snow. “This is interesting.”

 

It’s the only way to salvage this situation, Emma thinks, and focuses on their disagreement the night before instead of Regina’s eyes widening in betrayal. “Any enemy of Blue’s is a friend of mine,” she says.

 

“Don’t you dare, Lady Swan,” Regina says, and it’s so easy for them to fall into old patterns, to swing around and lock crossbow and fireball and _attack_. Emma struggles to find damning words to throw at Regina, to make wild accusations and new reasons for them to be at odds, but her thoughts are scattered and blank and instead they fight in determined silence.

 

Regina hurls her fireball and Emma barely ducks, rolling out of the way and firing close enough that Snow lets out a cry that has nothing to do with the baby. Regina stalks forward, clearing Snow’s corner of the room, and Emma swings forward and slams a fist into her face, drawing a bloody lip. She glances briefly at Glinda and sees her watching, eyes hungry as she takes Emma in. Glinda nods and there’s a _quality_ to her, something magnetic about her approval that has Emma struggling to remain afloat again.

 

Regina breathes out, face soft and then hard again, and sneers, “You’re too trusting. You’ll believe in anyone but me, won’t you?”

 

“I won’t believe in your fucking _murderous_ sister, no,” Emma grits out. This time, Regina catches her wrist and twists it, slamming her into the wall again. “I’m trying to keep our family safe. You, me, Snow. I don’t care about those two and their pointless agendas.”

 

Regina scoffs, pressing an arm to Emma’s throat. “Forgive me for considering my sister family.” Emma is backed against the wall, Glinda’s eyes fixed on her as she struggles, and Emma tries to heave Regina away from her as Regina presses harder. “I thought we were on the same side, Emma.” 

 

“We’ll never be on the same side,” Emma says boldly, and catches Glinda’s gaze and locks onto it. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?” 

 

It’s Zelena who speaks up now, strained and nervous, and they all look at her in surprise when she says, “Don’t… Not the two of you. Stop this.” Tamara says something dubiously and Zelena glares at her. 

 

Glinda waves her wand and both women on the ground are surrounded by sparks of purple that look like they’re biting into them, sharp and fire-hot, if the way they both fall silent is any indication. Tamara curls into herself and Zelena twitches defiantly, lets the pain surround her– and then she waves her hand and summons the wind. It whirls and whirls around her, casting off the sparks from Zelena as Tamara cries out at last, and Zelena says, her words half-swallowed, “The wizard.” 

 

“What?” Tamara looks up and then ducks back down, and Zelena spreads her hands to expand the wind around her, too. When the storm clears, the sparks are gone and both women are unharmed, Tamara watching Zelena as though she's seeing her for the first time.

 

“The wizard gave you that potion,” she says, piecing it together at last. “Glinda…she…” She turns, red-eyed and furious, and glares at Glinda. Glinda stares down at them in weighted disapproval, and Regina makes a threatening noise to tear Zelena’s gaze from Glinda.

 

It works.

 

“Regina,” Zelena says urgently, as though she’d already forgotten the attack she’d deflected. “You can’t…don’t hurt _Emma_.” Tamara uncurls herself, blinking up at Zelena in confusion. Zelena doesn’t seem to notice her so-called mortal enemy still huddled beside her, not when she’s busy gawping at the two of them as though they’ve lost their minds. “Why would you hurt Emma?”

 

“Well, you know,” Emma says faintly, reaching up and flailing at the arm pressed against her neck. She spots a movement near one of the inner doors out of the corner of her eye. “Sometimes there are irreconcilable differences. Sometimes we just really need to get a hold of a wand.” 

 

“What?” Zelena repeats. Glinda takes a moment longer. 

 

_Too long_. 

 

Lancelot tosses the Black Fairy’s wand through the air, over Glinda in the center of the room, and Milah has her musket trained on Glinda. Mulan lurks behind them, sword out and equally threatening as Belle holds a book to her chest, and Kalla rushes past them all to seize Snow’s wheelchair and roll her back to the birthing room.

 

They’d all entered the convent just moments after Emma and Snow, spreading out as they’d taken advantage of Blue’s distraction to find the wand they’d needed. Emma and Regina had staged irreconcilable differences and they’d brought in Tamara and Zelena and Snow, each of them an irresistible lure for Glinda. And with Belle’s research, it’s time at last to prove a theory.

 

“What is this?” Glinda growls, lifting her own wand. “You dare use the Black Fairy’s wand against _me_?” 

 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Regina says, letting Emma go and sliding into her side instead, pressing a brief kiss to her neck. Emma wraps an arm around her waist and Regina lays her head against her shoulder. A lazy hand is raised into the air to catch the wand Lancelot had tossed them. “Nobody moves.” 

 

Glinda freezes, eyes on the Black Fairy’s wand. Emma says, “Did you find the spell?” 

 

“Right here,” Belle says, walking to them under Mulan's watchful guard. She hands the book to Emma and Regina begins to read the words across the page. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Tamara says weakly. “You played us?” 

 

“More like we let you play with each other while we took care of things.” Lancelot’s voice is soothing. “Blue has had eyes everywhere, and we’ve had to be careful. She had to be completely distracted. And we had to know we could trust you.”

 

“What does this have to do with Glinda?” Zelena demands, exchanging a glare of mutual solidarity with Tamara. “Blue left before Regina and I got here– were you and Emma fighting at all?” she demands, her voice rising. “I can’t _believe_ I…” 

 

“I, for one, was very touched at your plea to save our relationship,” Emma says, eyes dancing. Zelena glowers at her and looks very embarrassed. Regina smirks through her spell-casting, murmuring the words faster and faster.

 

The Black Fairy’s wand is beginning to glow silver along its length, and Glinda waves her own wand and nothing happens. “ _No_ ,” she hisses, closing her eyes like she’s struggling to use magic, but the Black Fairy’s wand seems to tug it all out of her, drawing more and more from her at a rapid speed as Regina chants and chants and chants.

 

And then, bit by bit, Glinda herself is sucked into the wand. Her pink dress and pink skin and yellow hair are growing brighter and brighter into pinpoints of light that are swallowed by the wand, fading into silver and then nothingness. Her own wand clatters to the floor and she’s shouting in her high voice, rising higher and higher until it’s just a scream and Regina is still curled against Emma, wand out as she reads from the book. 

 

More and more of Glinda vanishes into the light and then– finally– another form is visible within her light, tiny and nimble as she flutters out of reach of the wand. “I knew it!” Emma gasps. It’s one thing to suspect, to theorize conspiracies and lies and secrets. It’s another entirely to see it _proven_ , Glinda and her nemesis one and the same, and she’s dizzy with relief as she watches her.

 

Across the room, Tamara and Zelena’s heads lift as they watch the Blue Fairy rise from Glinda’s remains, exposed at last. “I should have known you’d be a thorn in my side until the very end,” Blue sighs, taking in the room. “Still, though, you’re too late.” 

 

“I don’t think so,” Regina says smugly. “I always knew you were a nasty little cockroach, but now you’ve been exposed as the villain of this piece.” 

 

Blue laughs, high enough that her tiny voice echoes up through the convent and then bounces back down to surround them. “Villain? Hardly, Your Majesty. My purpose has always been the legacy passed down by my mother.” She gestures outside and Emma looks through the windows for the first time since their diversion had started–

 

_Their_ diversion, they’d thought, one orchestrated late at night in bed as they’d whispered secrets and plans that even nosy fairies couldn’t overhear. But now Emma sees the spurts of light outside that are fairies releasing dust across the town, drowning it in fairy-kindness as people walk past unaware, their gaits loose-limbed and easy. And she understands with dread that this diversion had been for them all along.

 

Blue flutters down and the wand springs from Regina’s hand to hers, and when she waves it, the doors fly open. The dust begins to drift inside, sparkling around them, and Emma watches in horror as everyone around her seems to slow down. Tamara and Zelena’s eyes droop. Mulan leans against the wall and Belle raises her head dazedly to watch the fairy-kindness sparkle through the room. Lancelot’s hands drop and Milah’s musket clatters to the floor. Regina’s hands loosen and fall, limp, to her sides.

 

Blue smiles, satisfied. “Prepare for goodness to reign.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super plotty chapter, but I promise that the next ones will be less ensemble and more Emma & Regina! This one was a bit of headache with SO MANY CHARACTERS omg and it took me much longer than it should have to write because of that. I should still have a chapter for you next weekend or maybe sooner~


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final stretch, let's do this~
> 
> trigger warning in this chapter for forced attempted suicide? kind of. you'll see.

It takes every fiber of Emma’s being to stand still. Beside her, Regina is swaying peacefully, and she forces herself to relax against the wall, eyes lidded to mask the sharpness of her gaze.

 

_Fairy-kindness_. Emma had taken the first potion to counteract last night, and it’s still in her veins now, her only immunity against what’s happening to everyone around her. These are women (and Lancelot) with a perpetual energy about them, dangerous and motionless like lionesses about to pounce, and now they’ve lost that. Now they’re bland and empty and meaningless, every single one of them. 

 

Or…no. Not everyone. Zelena is blinking now, still dazed but her brow furrowing, and she opens her mouth and then gives up, dropping to the ground with her head on her knees.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Tamara says, staring down, and she doesn’t look sleepy-eyed anymore, either. Emma darts a too-hopeful glance at Regina, just in case, but Regina is still swaying like a blade of grass in the wind, just as faceless and uncontained. Emma swallows back fear and struggles to focus on Blue. “What’s wrong with all of them?”

 

Blue frowns. “Zelena, I’m afraid, has developed some resistance to the fairy-kindness that has suffused the rest of the town with…complacency.” 

 

“Because of over-exposure?” Tamara sounds sick. “What the fuck did you do to her in Oz?” She reels in place. “Why am I not…” When she inhales, her eyes droop again, but quickly widen back to their initial disbelief. “What did you do to _me_?”

 

“I did nothing.” Blue smiles pleasantly. “You are less susceptible because of your heritage, of course. It’s the same as mine. Why do you think I’ve chosen you? Why I’ve given you so much and let you run so far from home?”

 

“No,” Tamara says in horror. “ _No_.”

 

“The daughter of a fairy and a mortal man. I thought, perhaps, it would be a final battle with Zelena that would activate your true self at last.” Blue gives her a grave look. “Still, though, there’s a chance.” She turns in midair, flying toward Regina and Emma, and Emma fights to keep her breath even.

 

There’s a _pop!_ and Blue is standing in front of them, full-sized, as she examines them both. Emma tenses, her chest rising and falling as she forces her reaction away. It’s not unlike Henry as a toddler, trying desperately to stop sobbing but without the faculties to control it, and Emma seizes onto that memory, of Henry crawling through Regina’s castle and Regina’s delighted laugh, until she’s calm again.

 

And Blue doesn’t notice Emma’s conflict– or maybe she just can’t fathom that anyone would resist her. She plucks the book out of Emma’s hands and the wand out of Regina’s and returns to Tamara. “You see, only a fairy can wield a wand as powerful as this to its full potential. Take it.” 

 

“I don’t–“ Tamara starts, eyeing it as though it’s poisoned.

 

“Take it,” Blue repeats, voice like steel. Tamara takes it. “The magic within you will only be magnified with the wand,” she says, moving to stand behind Tamara. “But I’ve been careful with you. All these years since I brought you to Oz, all these years of coddling you with these… _toys_ …” She eyes Tamara’s taser with disdain. “And there’s only one kind of magic you’ve kept close. Every step leading up to today has been planned. Wave the wand, my dear.” 

 

Tamara looks ill as she raises it. “I’m not…I _can’t_ be some kind of fairy.” Her eyes are hollow and resigned, though, under Blue’s spell even if she isn’t affected by the fairy-kindness. Emma writes her off as another loss, same as the others.

 

“Potential fairy,” Blue corrects, but she’s hovering again like she hasn’t quite lost her wings, fluttering behind Tamara with an expectant kind of hunger.

 

Tamara waves the wand and stumbles backward as something bright and colorful springs to life in front of her, growing in size and energy as the wand feeds magic to it. A _portal_ , Emma recognizes. 

 

“That’s enough,” Blue says, setting down the book that she’d snatched from Emma. “Belle!” she barks out. “And Captain, you with her.” She smiles beatifically at Belle. “Go home.”

 

Belle walks forward, her steps purposeful and true. Emma stays still, watching with limp movements as Belle steps into the portal, Milah behind her. Blue murmurs something into Milah’s ear before she walks into it, and then Tamara waves the wand again and the portal vanishes. 

 

Zelena moans from the floor. Blue says, “Mulan, Lancelot, guard our new arrivals.” Aurora and Philip are stumbling in, Aurora still groaning in labor even under the fairy dust influence. “If there is an intruder, kill them.” She eyes Emma and Regina with wariness that’s actually pretty flattering, if Emma does say so herself. _Always nice to know that the head fairy thinks you have the skill to bypass her magic drugs._

 

Which, well…yeah, apparently. Emma thinks back to the second vial of the potion, still secreted away in the mansion instead of in her pocket. _Soon_. It’s all she has to hang onto now.

 

Blue turns to them at last. “Regina, Emma.” She smiles, and it’s unfriendly even now. “Go out through Storybrooke. Dispatch all evil on the way.” 

 

Regina starts moving and Emma trails after her, suspicious as always. A blur of movement, a bump against the table while she’s lurching to the door, and the book Blue had taken is tucked under her jacket.

 

Even the fairies are dazed as they flutter through the town. There are people wandering through the streets outside, aimless and uncertain without direction. They catch onto each other and stick, like mobs of swarming ants, and Emma feels her heart land somewhere in her throat. She’s _alone_. She’s never felt this alone in her life, even when it’s been just her against the world.

 

But now she has allies and friends– has Regina, has her Merry Men, has all the people who’d lived in their castle last year and fought with them and had been snide and had been _real_ – now she’s surrounded by people who aren’t people at all. Now the woman she’s jogging to keep up with isn’t a friend or enemy or lover but an empty husk, stripped of free will.

 

Blue hasn’t just threatened the town. She’s commandeered it and done so with more control than even Regina’s curse ever has. And Emma– for the first time in her life– can’t see a single way out of this nightmare. 

 

Emma grabs Regina’s arm. “Hey. Listen. You have to be in there, right, Regina?” 

 

Regina turns a blank face to Emma that has her shuddering. “Dispatch all evil on the way,” she says. 

 

It takes everything Emma has to be blasé about this Regina who _isn’t_. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll get right on that. Let’s dispatch some potion first.” 

 

Her voice cracks at the end and goes high, and Regina stares right through her. “Dispatch all evil,” she repeats, turning in the direction of the docks.

 

Emma yanks her back to her, linking their elbows so Regina can’t escape as she marches them down toward the mansion. They don’t get any odd looks or acknowledgement at all, even when it’s Emma half-dragging Regina to the house. “We can find the evil later, okay?” she says soothingly, shoving the door open. “I’m just going to–“ She locks the door. “Stay right here. I’ll be right down,” she instructs Regina, fishing through her bag for some of Beetle's rope and tying the other woman to the stair rail.

 

Regina is already struggling when Emma dashes upstairs, and Emma moves through her things at top speed, shoving aside a stack of clothes to retrieve the little vial at the corner of the dresser. “Regina?” she calls, descending the stairs again. “I have a little energy drink before we go after all your evil– Oh, _shit_.” The ropes are still tied to the stairs, the end of them blackened and frayed. The front door is open.

 

Regina is still walking instead of taking that big black death trap of a car, thankfully, and Emma hurries down the block to catch up with her. “You know, I wasn’t going to be that kind of girlfriend, but I do wish that you checked with me before you escaped the bondage and ran out of the house? I had a plan, okay?” She’s babbling, making jokes before the panic overwhelms her, and empty-eyed people around them don’t even seem to notice.

 

Regina does not laugh. Or slow. At all. Emma considers risking the potion on her now, but she suspects that the sidewalk will get a lot more fairy-kindness resistance than Regina will in this case.

 

She can’t do this alone. She can’t–

 

She keeps up a running stream of commentary as Regina continues to stride toward the docks. “What’s up there, anyway? Is Neal still there? I know he was our backup in the whole expose-Glinda plot, but I don’t think he or David could be classified as _evil_.” 

 

“Dispatch all evil on the way,” Regina recites, and there’s something about the order that sounds…not quite right, suddenly. Shouldn’t it be _along_ the way? On the way implies that they’re on a trip to–

 

No. No, no, _fuck no_. “Regina!” she snaps, the terror shooting through her as though she’s on fire, but Regina is already heading to the Jolly Roger, boarding it and walking to the far– the deep side. “Regina, _wait!_ ”

 

She manages to wrestle her down once, but Regina flicks her hand and Emma flies against the mast behind her. Swiftly, Regina climbs up onto the ledge, unsteady, and she stares down into the water. “Dispatch all evil,” she says, one last time, and there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. 

 

_Not enough_. Emma is sick with dread, stumbling back across the deck with Regina’s magic still pounding in her ears. She isn’t losing Regina like _this_ , some order of the Blue Fairy’s their ending. If they could endure Zelena and Cora and Leopold, they can endure an oversized mosquito with delusions of grandeur. “Regina!” 

 

She raises one leg over the edge and Emma yanks her down by the other, pinning her hands down before Regina can set her on fire. “Wait!” she says desperately. “Wait, Blue said that–“ Regina stops struggling for a moment and Emma takes advantage of _that_ to fumble for the vial, uncorking it and pouring the whole potion into Regina’s mouth. 

 

Regina chokes, spitting half of it out, and Emma tries her best to push it back in, wincing at Regina thrashing and gurgling words through the potion. “Dispatch– dispatch–“ 

 

Her eyes cloud over and then clear, horror on her face. “That _fucking_ fairy,” she spits out, furious, and Emma’s so relieved that she nearly sobs. 

 

Regina shoots up, looking murderous. “She knew exactly what she was doing,” Regina hisses, and she’s trembling when Emma curls a hand into her shirt and pulls her into her embrace, both of them still on their knees. “Emma?” Regina whispers, studying her face. 

 

“Yeah,” Emma says, shivering. “I think she did.” Regina sags into her arms at last, her lips brushing Emma’s only briefly as she shudders and quivers with rage. Emma swallows. “But it only worked because you thought…you still think…God, Regina, I can’t deal with you still believing that you’re _evil_.” She kisses Regina hard this time, trying desperately to convince Regina of something she’s never been able to before. She kisses her and Regina kisses her back and oh god, Emma isn’t alone anymore but she very nearly was.

 

Regina curls up in her embrace; silent, her face colorless, her hands still trembling. “I love you,” she whispers. “I love Henry. I won’t give up.”

 

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Emma murmurs, her heart pounding. “Time to be a hero again, right?”

 

Regina feels nearly frail, delicate and weary and so uncertain. “Time to be something,” she whispers, and Emma strokes her hair again and again until she can believe that Regina is real in her arms.

 

* * *

 

They head down to the vault. As far as Blue’s concerned, Regina is probably dead– maybe even by Emma’s hand. Rage crawls through Emma at _that_ realization. Even if Blue’s planning some grand takeover that has incapacitated them all, she’d still wanted Regina dead and gone. “We have to–“

 

“Get Henry, I know,” Regina says, mixing ingredients and adjusting a flame beneath the vial. “I don’t have much left of everything I need. Two potions, tops.” 

 

At last, progress. Some kind of way out of this. “Can we get them into the water supply, maybe? Spread it all out?” 

 

“It won’t be enough.”

 

_Still nothing._ Emma inhales sharply, dropping onto one of the chairs in the vault and flipping through the book Belle had brought them. “Did she get this from the library?” 

 

“I would assume she found it in Gold’s stores. It’s a book about the wand, and the wand is linked to the Dark One.” Regina fiddles with the potion. “You remember Quinn’s story.” 

 

“The Black Fairy falls in love, is pregnant with Blue, has some kind of fight with her husband. She has the wand, he has the dagger. He kills her and all her dark energy passes into the man. He becomes the Dark One. Blue is born as a premature asshole,” Emma recites. She squints up at Regina again. “Can we please talk about the thing where you still think you’re evil?” 

 

“No,” Regina says.

 

“Because–“ 

 

“No,” Regina repeats, a new edge of hysteria to her voice. “Because someone just took advantage of my own self-loathing to try to force me to give up– to _commit suicide_ ,” she corrects herself. “Blue took away my free will. And our son is still out there and I don’t give a damn about what I’m feeling about it right now as long as Henry is under Blue’s influence.” Her shoulders are shaking and a vial across the room shatters. “ _Dammit_!”

 

“Regina,” Emma whispers. Anger has been something to hold onto. Desperation is only quickening Emma’s heartbeat, too. “Come here.” 

 

Regina wrings her hands. “I have to–“ 

 

“Come here,” she says again, and she doesn’t know what she can do to soothe Regina but she kisses her when she approaches, slow and gentle until Regina’s heartbeat isn’t quite so frenetic and they’re both a little calmer. 

 

Emma can feel the same terror as Regina in her veins. They’re helpless right now, trapped in a town completely under someone else’s control and without any kind of plan beyond _keep Henry safe_. There’s no way out of town without being turned into a flying monkey. They have no allies anymore, and Blue is controlling everyone. 

 

There’s nothing they can do, and it takes a moment of the two of them with foreheads pressed together and hands lazy against each other’s waists before they can both breathe easily again. “We’ll get Henry,” Emma says for both of them, finally with something productive to do. 

 

“I’m going to read…whatever I can in this book.” It’s an odd mix of their spoken language– _English_ , it’s called here– and what Regina says is elvish. Emma’s skimming the pages, searching for familiar words while Regina mixes the potion.

 

“Here!” she says, her finger landing on a line she can read. “ _The babe, the dagger, the wand_. Can you read the rest of this?”

 

“Sounds like ingredients,” Regina says, brow furrowing. “She has the wand. She has at least one baby. All she needs is–“ 

 

“She told Belle to go home,” Emma points out. “If she’s planning on finding the dagger, wouldn’t it be in the Dark One’s castle?” Finally, _finally_ , this is all a little less overwhelming. They have a lead. They have something– if not something to use, something to keep from Blue. “We just have to beat her to it.” 

 

Regina shakes her head, wry and equally overwhelmed. “A fairy. We’re going to declare war on the fairies. What kind of idiot thinks that _that’s_ a good idea?” She spins around, eyes flashing. “You do the…little aggressions, you know? You kidnap someone’s lover, you send an assassin after someone else, you maybe cast a curse that turns Blue into a nun? It’s all casual. Not _war_.” She’s pacing now, hands expressive in her disbelief, and Emma can feel laughter bubbling up. Regina frowns at her. “What?” 

 

“I’m just…” She doesn’t know how to describe it, this moment of lightness that is Regina raging over large-scale magical battle after all the dread and hopelessness that had come before. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says finally.

 

Regina watches her with warm, warm eyes, so much within them that Emma knows is mirrored in her own. “I’m glad you’re here with me, too,” Regina says, and winning this one suddenly feels a tiny bit more possible.

 

* * *

 

Regina does manage two potions in the end, and there are no questions about who has to get the spare. Safety has to be their first concern, not firepower. There’s no one who can counter a fairy maneuvering the whole town as marionettes. 

 

So Emma matches the pace of the people around her and meanders toward the pawn shop, a vial of potion in her pocket as she casually pushes open the door. Neal and David are standing in place, neither one reacting to the visitor, and Emma marches up to David and pours the potion into his open mouth.

 

“I wish I could just…be your big brother,” David says when they slip into the back of the shop. Neal stares straight ahead with blank eyes and doesn’t follow them. “Hold my arms around you and protect you from the world.” 

 

He does wrap his arms around her, and she leans against his solid chest and says, “Yeah, okay, Shepherd Boy. _I’m_ the one who needs protection.”

 

He laughs, a rumble against her ears. “When we were kids, I was herding sheep and you were starting up with kings. I may have missed my big brother time slot. Still, though…” 

 

She grins, oddly at peace in the quiet room with David’s easy calm. “If I ever decide I’m cut out for that whole damsel in distress bit, I’ll definitely let you know.” 

 

“Regina would kick my ass for it and save you herself.” 

 

“Probably.” They haven’t spent much time together since Emma had been returned to Storybrooke, and Emma’s missed this between them. There’s a connection, one wrought less by time together and more by _what-could-have-been._ Emma wishes they’d had the chance for the former, but the latter is enough right now. And maybe someday…

 

She presses a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “Go look after your kid, David. I got this.”

 

They can’t give the potion to Snow or Aurora, not when both women will have an easier time of it if they aren’t in Blue’s line of fire. David will watch over the women and the babies, hopefully nondescript enough that he won’t be in danger even if Blue figures him out. Her patronage of the White family has to mean something.

 

They split up when Emma leaves the pawn shop, David heading to the convent and Emma tracing her steps back to the vault. Henry and Regina should be there already, and Emma speeds up, so focused on them that she doesn’t notice when several passersby change direction to amble after her. 

 

And then a few more. And then, even more. Emma twists around, finally spotting them moving toward her in her peripheral vision, and comes face-to-blank-face with several dozen townspeople. They keep walking forward, undeterred by her suspicion.

 

_Fuck. Fuck._ Blue must have realized that the book was gone and put two and two together. And somehow, she can control all these people reaching out for Emma.

 

Emma takes off, spotting a few fairies swooping down at her– Tinkerbell among them, nothing in her gaze– and dodging them as she turns a corner. There are more townspeople waiting for her there, shifting forward in slow steps, and she slams into them, twists past grabbing hands and shoves through limp bodies to get past the mob. 

 

“Emma!” The cry is loud in the silence of the mob and oh-so-welcome. Henry is– above her? “Emma, grab my hand!” 

 

She takes his hand and steps, fleet-footed, up knees and shoulders as easily as she would tree branches, swinging herself up and safely onto Beetle. Beside them, Rocinante nickers in approval and Regina says, “Onward, then.” 

 

They ride faster than the mob, people detaching themselves from their aimless wandering to trail after them, and they ride faster, Emma taking the reins from Henry and swinging them around toward the woods.

 

“We just need to lose them!” Henry calls into her ear. “My whole class turned all zombie on me before Mom got there. I was just standing there while they grabbed at me! Mom had to pull me away to give me the potion and then they got confused and we escaped.” 

 

“David should be fine,” Emma says, chewing on her lip. “Blue won’t suspect him when Mulan and Lancelot are watching over the babies.” They’re deeper in the woods now, Regina leading the way and no movement in sight. Emma lets out a whoop and Beetle speeds up to ride beside Rocinante. “How’d you manage to get to the stables?”

 

“They aren’t far from the school.” Regina glances around and then nods. “Whoa!” Beetle and Rocinante both obey her command, slowing to a halt so they can all slide down onto the forest floor. “A car might have been more efficient, but–“ She looks grouchy about it.

 

“We can’t run over everyone in our way, Mom,” Henry says reproachfully. “Zombies are people too.” 

 

“–I was outvoted,” Regina finishes sullenly. Emma stifles a laugh. 

 

“Well. I’m glad you haven’t murdered any innocents today.” She sits down, leaning against the closest tree trunk. “So what now? We have to make it back to the convent and find Tamara.” 

 

“If Tamara even agrees to help us,” Henry supplies. “I thought she was pretty cool before she tortured Mom and kidnapped me, but–“ 

 

“I think she will,” Regina says, and they both stare at her. She shrugs, irritable. “I don’t know. I’m all about the second chances these days, aren’t I? I don’t like her, but if Blue’s been the mastermind of all of this, we might as well worry about her instead of an old grudge.” 

 

“You think Tamara’s still on our side?” 

 

“I think she’s the only one we might have a chance of getting through to. The other fairies are all under Blue’s influence. Everyone else is under the fairy-kindness. And Zelena is unreliable at best. Tamara might be more pragmatic.” She straightens. “Emma, you stay here with Henry. I’ll go talk to Tamara.” 

 

“No!” Emma and Henry say at once. “We’re not splitting up again,” Henry says firmly.

 

“I’m not letting either of you out of my sight,” Emma agrees. “If we do this, we do it together.” They’ve had precious few opportunities to ever get to _be_ together, and Emma isn’t going to squander them now, at the end of things.

 

They wait in silence, eyes fixed on the one woman here who _can_ snap her fingers and poof away, leaving them in the dust.

 

“Okay,” Regina says finally. “Together.” 

 

* * *

 

Emma leads the way. She might be the least familiar with the terrain of Storybrooke, but she still has the instinctive ability to map out new places almost instantly from horseback, and Regina rides behind her with Henry wrapped around her waist, watching attentively.

 

They ride out near where they’d first vanished into the woods, and there are still townspeople congregated there, trudging into the underbrush and tripping all over each other. Emma shouts, “Hey!” and darts forward, Beetle her steady companion, and the townspeople follow her deep into the woods.

 

She tracks the terrain to where the bushes are thornier, where there are tangled roots hidden under the leaves, and to where the trees are so thick that it’s impossible to see anything. Henry is nearly bouncing on Rocinante’s back, earning a swat of a tail when he unbalances the horse a bit too much. “Hold tight, Henry,” Regina calls. 

 

“You want me? You want me?” Emma taunts, riding in deeper. “Come and get me. Yeah, you! Over there!” She yanks a branch off a tree and tosses it at one of the dwarves. “Right this way, _sir_!”

 

Henry winces at her. “Be cool, Ma.” 

 

“Rude! Who taught you your manners? Sure as hell wasn’t me.” This is exhilarating, what Emma was _made_ for. Taunting her hunters through the woods until they realize they’re the hunted? She’s been doing this since she’d been just about Henry’s age.

 

And the shambling townspeople are responding, stepping deeper and deeper into the woods. They’re getting mired in the underbrush, fumbling for freedom with fingers that aren’t working as nimbly as they should, thanks to the fairy-kindness. _Perfect._ “Let’s go!” Emma orders her family, and she turns, mapping a way out in moments. 

 

And within minutes, they’re free of their pursuers and emerging from the woods, right behind the convent. “See? Your Ma is kind of cool,” Emma teases, riding up beside Henry.

 

Henry is unimpressed. “Mom could have waved her hand and we’d already be there.” 

 

“Aha, but the townspeople would be free to slow us down. Tell me I’m cool, kid.” She isn’t quite clear on what _cool_ means in this world, but she’s pretty sure it’s something good. 

 

“Tell her she's cool,” Regina says in a stage whisper. “She’ll never stop asking if you don’t.” Emma gives her a dark look. Regina smirks.

 

Henry studies her speculatively. “Ma, can I get a dog?” 

 

“I don’t see why not,” Emma says. The Merry Men had kept various dogs over the years, slipped them meat and let them run free as long as they hadn’t bothered the horses. If they can afford to feed a dog, Henry can–

 

Regina is glaring daggers at her. Huh. Maybe this world is different. All those enclosed houses. “You _are_ cool,” Henry says, beaming.

 

“Why don’t we wait until we defeat ultimate good before we start planning for pets?” Regina cuts in, still glaring at Emma. 

 

Emma winces. “Right, yeah. Listen to your mom. Think we can get into the building by poofing?” 

 

“Not without Blue detecting us. This part is on you, Tarzan.” Henry giggles and Emma frowns, the reference passing over her head, and nods to them, shimmying up a tree and across the roof, peering into windows until she sees them.

 

They’re in one of the upstairs rooms now, removed from the auditorium and the nursery. Tamara is still holding the wand, staring at it with discomfort and faint curiosity. Zelena is curled up in fetal position on the bed beside her, hands pressed to her head as Tamara absentmindedly rubs her back in soothing circles. 

 

Emma raps on the window. Tamara turns, eyes widening.  _Emma?_ she mouths, rising and hurrying to open the window. “How the hell did you get past Glinda’s magic?” 

 

“It’s a long story,” Emma says. “But for now, we need your help.” She eyes the wand. They could take it, too, but Regina is certain that Blue could recover it in an instant. She will always have more power over it than they will. No, they’re better off going after the dagger.

 

Tamara glances back at Zelena on the bed, and then past Emma to where Henry and Regina are waiting on the ground. “What do you need?”

 

Emma says, “A ride home.” 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spider ahead, consider yourself warned~

“I really hate magic,” Tamara grumbles, glaring at the wand.

 

Emma sighs. “Yeah, me too. But it’s all we’ve got.” They’re fighting a fairy, after all. They don’t have much choice in the matter. 

 

“No, it’s…magic is _wrong_ ,” Tamara says, and there’s something flickering in her eyes like a lie. Emma’s brow furrows. “It’s destructive and unbalanced and…I don’t know if I actually believe that because I want to or because Glinda wanted me to,” she says dully. “If I’m just her chauffeur now while she goes and creates a new world order in that other realm.”

 

“Is that her plan?”

 

But Tamara only shrugs, staring at the wand pensively as Emma shifts on the balls of her feet and watches the door. “We don’t have much time.” 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

They both freeze at the voice. Zelena has rolled over at last, staring at them with glassy eyes. “Glinda won’t want that,” she says gravely, jerking to sit up.

 

“I don’t give a fuck about what Glinda wants,” Tamara snaps. “And if you ever broke free of her hold, maybe you wouldn’t, either.”

 

But Zelena is only half-present in the room, pale eyes as sightless as the rest of the town’s. “Glinda,” she mutters to herself. “Glinda.” She moves toward the door and Emma nearly trips in her rush to cut her off. 

 

Zelena waves her hand and Emma goes flying across the room. “Emma!” Tamara runs for her but Emma holds up a hand.

 

“You go with Regina to Zelena’s farmhouse– where you first came into Storybrooke. Open the portal. I’ll come when I can.” She meets Tamara’s gaze, finds the pragmatist in her eyes, and waits until Tamara nods slowly.

 

Zelena needs to be slowed. Zelena needs to be _stopped_ , and Emma’s going to stay for as long as they need to hold her off. Even if Zelena has magic and Emma has only the bow on her back. 

 

Emma charges at Zelena again. Tamara clicks her heels and vanishes.

 

This time, Zelena is a little too slow, her movements stilted by the fairy-kindness enough that Emma can slam her onto the ground for a moment, hands pressed to her neck in warning. “I know you’re…possibly on our side right now,” she grinds out. “And that Blue has you under her influence. But if you don’t stop elbowing me in the gut, I’m going to–“ 

 

Zelena elbows her again, sharp edges that bite into Emma’s side, and Emma winces in pain and rears back. “I have to…” Zelena shakes her head, hair flying everywhere like a wet puppy, and she pushes Emma into the door. “Glinda is looking for you,” she says, and it sounds a little helpless.

 

The door opens behind her and, for a moment, Emma thinks that they’re all doomed. It has to be Blue. Blue might be too _good_ to kill her directly, but her patience with Emma must be running low, and she’ll stop only for a moment to punish Emma before finishing off Regina and Henry. 

 

_Henry_. She twists around, fists clenching already, and nearly punches David in the face. “Whoa,” he says, turning them both around, and in a flash, he’s got Zelena pinned to the wall and Emma free. “Big brother to the rescue, huh?” he says, grinning.

 

“She has magic, you absolute dunderhead.” But Emma says it affectionately, crossing the room while Zelena struggles against David’s grip with lethargic movements. “Let me talk to her, okay?” 

 

She focuses on the moment when Zelena had had her pinned against the door, the flicker of hesitation in her voice, and she takes Zelena by the shoulders and says evenly, “Listen to me. You’ve spent a year fucking up Regina’s life every step of the way. And she might be forgiving– too forgiving of the people she loves,” Emma mutters. “She might be, but I’m not going to be anymore, got it? I will kill you.” Her eyes flash and Zelena’s eyes focus and then fade. “So you’re going to listen to my voice right now– _mine_ , not Glinda’s– and you’re going to think about how much you love your sister and stay right here. Do you understand?”

 

Finally, something defiant shines in Zelena’s eyes, fading in and out with every moment they stand there. “Kill me,” she gasps out at last. “Kill me or– You have to stop Glinda from–” 

 

“Enough,” comes a new voice from behind them. Regina flicks her fingers and Zelena’s eyes close. She sinks to the floor, snoring lightly, and Emma snatches a pillow off the bed and eases it under her head. “David, downstairs before you get yourself executed. And Emma…” 

 

She rounds on her. Emma gulps. “You idiot,” Regina accuses. “You can’t insist on togetherness and then run off and try to sacrifice yourself for the rest of us. That isn’t how it works.” 

 

But she only looks relieved, her anger all but faded, and Emma dares to ask, “How does it work, then?” 

 

“Like this.” She kisses Emma and then swats her away, and then kisses her again. “ _Idiot_.” 

 

* * *

 

The portal has to be huge to include the horses, both of whom seem ready to run when Tamara expands it into a whirling mass of dark energy. “We don’t have a choice,” Regina says, urging Rocinante forward. “If Rumple’s wards are still in place, we won’t be able to get into the Dark Castle or environs by portal. We can’t risk jumping through and incinerating ourselves. So we ride.” 

 

“We ride,” Emma agrees. 

 

Henry is staring wide-eyed into the portal, hanging onto Regina’s back for dear life while they plan an exact location to have in mind for the jump. “And then we’ll be in the Enchanted Forest,” he says, dazed.

 

“You’ve done portal-jumping before, kid,” Tamara says, and all three of them blink at her accusingly. She rolls her eyes. “Touchy subject?” 

 

Henry, naturally, is the most mature of the three of them. “Neverland was different,” he says, dropping his glare. “That was a new world. This is the one where I was born. Where Ma’s been until now. It’s so… _awesome_ ,” he finally breathes, and gapes at the portal again.

 

“Hang in there, kid,” Emma says, mostly to distract from how choked up she’s getting over his enthusiasm. She is a hardened outlaw. She isn’t going to get sentimental over her son going home with her. (Her eye twitches and certainly does not tear up.) “Let’s do this.” She turns to Tamara. “You can hold the portal open?”

 

Tamara nods. “I…think so? Unless Glinda finds me and murders us all,” she offers, then casts a nervous glance to where the ceiling of the barn is beginning to shred a bit at the top of the portal. “Or this whole barn collapses on me.” 

 

“Encouraging.” Beetle whines, and Emma scratches reassuringly at his neck. “Go for it, big guy.” 

 

She leans forward, squeezing her knees into his sides for a moment to calm him before finally leaps forward. Quickly, she thinks of where they’re meant to be, the blackness of the portal swallowing her up, and they both emerge safely at a spot in the lands that were once Sir Maurice’s. 

 

She does a spot check for ogres and is surprised to discover that they haven’t ventured back into the towns this time. In fact, there’s no sign of life at all, not even the animals they’d seen roaming the lands when they’d been living at the Dark Castle. 

 

Maybe she’s just on edge, waiting for a sign that Blue is a step ahead of them again. Maybe she’s seeing what she wants to. Either way, Emma’s learned to trust her instincts, and by the time Regina and Henry emerge from the portal, Rocinante braying wildly, she’s crouching on the ground, studying faded paw prints in the dirt. 

 

“Is it Blue?” Regina asks, terse from the trip into the portal.

 

“I don’t know.” Emma snags a loose branch from a bush and studies it, searching for insects. Nothing. “It’s just…the land seems kind of dead, doesn’t it?” She tucks the branch into Beetle’s saddlebag and–

 

There’s something in there. She feels familiar material and gasps out loud, pulling her cloak from its hiding place and drawing it around her. “Was this here all along? I thought I’d lost it with the curse!”

 

“You did,” Regina says, and Emma twists to eye her suspiciously. But she’s smiling, warm and knowing, and her gaze traces the movements of the cloak with affection. “When I had it made, I enchanted it to always find you again. I guess it’s just been…waiting for you to come home.” 

 

“I didn’t know,” Emma breathes, stroking the smooth, sturdy fabric. “You put a spell on it?” 

 

“I put a lot of spells on it, Emma,” Regina says, and now she’s laughing with her eyes. “Do you have many articles of clothing that can survive decades in the woods? Riding on horses and sneaking through castles?” 

 

She’d never really thought much about it. The cloak had been comforting, Regina’s presence in her heart surrounding her when she’d been distant from her, and she hadn’t put much stock into why it had never been time to retire it. Even now, cloak around her shoulders, she can feel a confidence that she hasn’t in Storybrooke.

 

“You look badass, Ma,” Henry says, pumping a fist. 

 

Emma smirks at Regina. “You should have seen Mom back in the day.” 

 

“Not child-appropriate!” Regina scolds. “And in case you’ve both forgotten, we have a dagger to secure. Wherever Belle and Milah emerged, they have a several-hour head start.”

 

“Right,” Emma says, sobering right up. “And the whole land is dead.” It still screams as suspicious to her, still _screams_ to her like only someone who knows the woods intimately would hear.

 

“Not the whole land!” Henry says suddenly. “Look, a hummingbird!” There’s one fluttering around him and the second saddle, poking at his finger as he raises it to inspect the bird. 

 

At once, Emma has a bad feeling about it. “We should ride.” 

 

“Yes, we should,” Regina agrees, her voice strained. “In Oz, Glinda– _Blue_ used hummingbirds to hunt us.” She already has Rocinante moving forward, and Emma spurs Beetle on as she catches sight of a burst of moving light in the distance. _Fireflies_. Whatever animals are still in this land, they’re under Blue’s control.

 

They ride in terse silence as the cloud of fireflies bears down on them, and Emma calls, “Split up! It’s the only way.” She tears to the left, the fireflies scattering as they struggle to follow her, too, and Emma keeps her head down and rides high up the mountain toward the Dark Castle, higher than the fireflies as they follow and sting her. 

 

Beetle whips his head around, ever protective of her, and swats the fireflies with more and more pained grunts. Emma holds onto him as tightly as she can without slowing him down, hating herself for subjecting him to this, too.

 

They’re riding blind, the sky growing dark and their eyesight obscured by the flashes of the fireflies around them, and Emma closes her eyes and does her best to ride from memory. Beetle is getting older now and he doesn’t have the stamina he’d had in his youth, and Emma can feel him staggering with exhaustion. “Come on, boy. Easy,” she coaxes him. “It won’t be far now.” 

 

She thinks they’re just a few minutes from the castle, and she slows as much as she can without stopping altogether. When they’re close, she drops from Beetle’s back, running at a sprint to draw the fireflies to her. 

 

Instead, there’s a rush of magical wind and they scatter, flying back into the night. At the door, Regina rubs her hands together with satisfaction. “Took you long enough.” 

 

“I had to take the long way here!” Emma protests, looking over her companions. Their burns are already healing, courtesy of Regina, but Henry is looking a bit more subdued. “You okay, kid?” 

 

“Evil _fireflies_?” he says disbelievingly.

 

“Or very, very good ones,” Emma corrects, wincing at Regina’s hands on the welts on her skin. “Let’s heal Beetle and get inside.” 

 

“Take your time.” For a moment, Emma thinks that it’s Blue behind them. It’s her voice, light and patronizing and disdainful, layered over a second, softer voice. Belle stands in the doorway of the castle, blank-faced as Blue speaks through her. “This land is devouring itself whole in anticipation of a new world.” 

 

“Blue,” Regina growls, and the two of them move instinctively, arms wrapping around Henry to protect him as they stand together. 

 

Belle’s mouth stays upturned in a smile. “Did you think you could stop me with my own father’s dagger?” Blue asks through her. “Did you think that you could halt a mission that’s lasted for eternity, children?”

 

Emma glances down the mountain and sees, for the first time, mist growing and growing in the distance. “It will end here,” Blue says quietly. “Here, where I was born. This realm will be cleansed of darkness and be born again in goodness, no longer the dark and corrupted.”

 

“That’s why she wants the true love babies,” Henry whispers. “You’re going to build a new world with the purest hearts.”

 

Belle-Blue smiles at him, light and nearly affectionate for Blue. “Smart boy. I had wished you might be the one, once. But there is too much corruption in your bloodline.” 

 

Emma ignores the insult. “You want to… _breed_ a master race? This is the plan for ultimate good?” 

 

“Kidnapping their godchildren and betrothing them? It’s what the fairies were made for,” Regina grumbles.

 

“You’re not taking Snow’s kid from her.” 

 

Blue laughs. “By daybreak, this castle will be renewed. No one within it will come out alive.” Behind her, unicorns are clustering in the hall that had once held suits of armor and beasts. They wait, silvery-white and silent, and when Belle’s body turns and walks into the castle, their heads turn in unison to face Emma, Regina, and Henry.

 

“She’s lying,” Emma says immediately. “She sent Belle and Milah here to retrieve the dagger. If they’re still here, she hasn’t gotten it yet, which means she’s left them an escape route to return to Storybrooke.” 

 

“If Milah’s still here. If she wants the dagger retrieved at all.” Regina steps in front of them, crouching down and putting her palms against the ground. It lights up in streaks of violet, creating a path into the castle and straight to the front door. The unicorns rear back, hissing snarls in reaction to the dark magic. “Walk this way.” 

 

They walk cautiously, Regina at the front and Henry between them with Emma’s hand gripping his shoulder. The unicorns let out menacing snorts as they walk past but don’t cross the line, and Emma fires one arrow at the door to confirm that they can enter.

 

Belle is dusting at the corner of the main room, eyes glazed over but hands busy. She opens a china closet and items hop out of it– a teapot, a candelabra, a clock– followed by more and more objects, rapidly growing in size and marching and bouncing to them. 

 

“Seriously?” Henry demands it in the exact same tone as Emma would, and she feels a spark of real parental pride. Oh _yes_ , that’s her son. No patience for absurd magic at all.

 

“Stay close,” Regina orders, and then there’s no more time for a retrospective on the effect of Emma’s genetics on Henry. They spring into action, Regina with her magic and Emma with her bow, a flurry of motion around their son as they fight off the enchanted objects. Knives fly at them, lit candles rain from the ceiling, and Belle dusts peacefully as Emma ducks her head and races for the stairs, Henry’s hand in hers.

 

Regina brings up the rear this time, and when she slams the passage door shut, it’s to silence. There are no more attacks as they climb the stairs, no more unexpected visitors. “That’s it?” Regina says, scowling. “That was Blue’s big defense?” 

 

“No,” Emma breathes, rounding a corner. “No, it wasn’t.” 

 

Milah is in the next room, trussed up in a corner and unconscious. And there’s still one animal in these lands that isn’t Blue’s.

 

_That damned spider_. Emma had spent the bulk of her pregnancy held captive by that spider, living out thousands of lifetimes before Belle had freed her. When they’d taken the Dark Castle after the curse had broken, she’d gone upstairs to find it and seen only cobwebs where it had once been. 

 

But now it’s back again, spinning a trap for them all. Hanging from the center of the room, nearly concealed in the web, is the dagger. 

 

They’ll rot in this room, fade away into nothingness until Blue’s magic purifies the land and takes them all with it. _No._ They can’t–

 

“You are not going back in there,” Regina orders in a low voice.

 

“I’m the only one here with any experience with it. And we need that dagger.”

 

“I’m the only one here with _magic_ ,” Regina says, seizing her by the cloak. “Or haven’t you noticed that that’s the only defense we have against Blue and Rumple?”

 

They stand for a moment, glaring at each other in mutual determination to sacrifice. “Together,” Emma concedes finally. The spider turns, clicking its pincers and gazing at them with black eyes. 

 

“Together,” Regina agrees. She turns back to their son. “Henry, ten minutes. If we don’t make it out by then, you take Rocinante and ride back to the portal, understood?” 

 

Henry nods, his face unreadable. 

 

Regina and Emma step into the room, both of them reaching the dagger at the same moment, and their hands close around it as their eyes meet.

 

And then…

 

_She’s seventeen and planning an ambush when she realizes that something is wrong. The woman who steps out of the carriage is too confident, too easily amused by their fighting, so Emma shouts “Retreat!” and they flee into the woods._

 

_A girl who would be queen watches Swan Hood from the window of the carriage and then looks away, her interest sparking and then fading again._

 

_Emma never meets her. Emma doesn’t target King Leopold’s carriages anymore, not when he is a good king to his subjects and there are mouths to feed in other kingdoms. Emma is far too busy humbling royals to befriend one._

 

_Regina endures; in silence, in loneliness. When a fairy promises to find her soulmate, she flees at the door of the tavern as Emma drinks with Quinn inside._

 

_The Evil Queen rises. Emma brings food to an inner village and watches the next night as they’re all executed for enabling a thief. She learns her lesson and writes off the Queen’s kingdom as untouchable, same as the Dark One’s castle. The people of the Queen's kingdom rarely starve, anyway._

 

_The Evil Queen is bitter and angry and bent on vengeance. Emma glimpses her at David and Abigail’s engagement ball, a tiny woman who dominates the room. She’s beautiful and dangerous and for a moment, Emma feels a tiny thrill at the thought of approaching her._

 

_She does not._

 

_Emma never sleeps with Neal. Emma never has a child. The Dark Curse comes and swallows them all whole, and Emma is riding on one of her trips away from the Merry Men when it happens._

 

_Mayor Mills orders Deputy Sheriff Swan around with such mocking dismissiveness that Deputy Sheriff Swan loathes her. She forgets it every morning and remembers it each day, again and again and again._

 

_The curse is broken seven years later when Snow White and Prince Charming kiss. Emma returns to the woods. The Evil Queen returns to evil. There is no son in her life, no perfect opposite to war with. There is only emptiness and Snow White’s mercy to spare her._

 

_Emma’s life is lonely, quiet, simple. Emma pauses that first night when the Evil Queen is spitting vitriol at her from her cell with an odd kind of disconnect– they’re always disconnected– and wonders, for a moment, if…_

 

_No. Never._

 

_Emma doesn’t think about it again. The Evil Queen never does, either. They continue through bland lives, empty existences. They never notice how lacking it all is because they’ve only ever known it. There never will be anything more for them than this._

 

_And then something changes._

 

_She’s sitting in her little cottage outside the woods when there’s a knock at the door and a boy behind it, barely a teen and with determination in his eyes. “Hi,” he says. “My name’s Henry. I’m your son.”_

 

_And he marches her to where the Evil Queen still lurks, still untouchable but as alone as Emma, and Regina Mills gapes at him with the same confusion. They don’t even think to protest when he sits them down on the couch and takes a seat opposite them. “This world is wrong,” he tells them. “This isn’t our reality.”_

 

_“We have a reality,” Emma repeats skeptically. Regina snorts with the same disbelief. And there’s something oddly soothing about her presence, something familiar at the boy leaning back against the couch as though he’s at home here with the Evil Queen and Swan Hood. “Look, kid, I think it’s time you went home. Whatever dare your buddies put you up to–“_

 

_“Not a dare,” he says. “We have to find the dagger.”_

 

_“Dagger.” Regina repeats it and laughs, clear and mocking. “You came here to get the Dark One’s dagger? Good luck with that.”_

 

_“I don’t need–“ Henry starts, exasperated. “Look up. Haven’t you looked up yet?”_

 

_Regina turns to stare at Emma instead. Emma hesitates, caught in her gaze, and it feels as though it’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other. Something gaping in her heart- something she’d never noticed before- seems to fill with warmth. And then, as a team, they both raise their faces to stare at the ceiling above them._

 

_The dagger hangs above them– had it been there all along? and Henry darts forward as they both reach for it, their eyes flickering to it and then each other. And together, the three of them grab hold of it and–_

 

Regina's coughing in the dust of the room as she summons a fireball, her hand still wrapped around the dagger. “Oh,” she says, very softly.

 

“Oh,” Emma echoes. It takes the moment they remember for the yawning emptiness that had been their lives alone to sink in, and Emma is sick with the thought of it. “Regina–“

 

Regina spins around, hurls a stream of fire at the spider until it’s curled up in death, and then kisses her, long and hard and needy. Emma grips her elbows and tugs her closer and winds hands through her hair as Regina’s slide under Emma’s cloak. _Home_. This is her world, not the dull emptiness of the other universe. This is _theirs_ , real and whole and right, and she won’t let it go ever again.

 

Henry coughs politely, then louder, and they pull apart red-faced and unapologetic. “Come here, kid,” Emma says, and pinches him when he’s close.

 

“Ow!” 

 

“You came in after us?” Emma demands. “Do you have any idea what you could have done? Don’t you ever _think_?” She wraps him and Regina in a constricting hug together, the three of them with their heads bumping each other’s in an attempt to hold on tighter. Regina is shaking and Emma knows that she is, too, the visions taking their toll on them both. _This is theirs_ , Emma thinks again, and she kisses Regina’s cheek and then Henry’s and holds them tighter still.

 

After some time, they drift apart with reluctance. Regina untangles the dagger and Emma drags Milah’s prone body out of the room, and they hurry back through the now-silent castle to retrieve Belle, too. “How long were we out?” Emma asks. 

 

“A half hour, maybe,” Henry says, peering out the window. “I think we’re running out of time.” 

 

They hitch Beetle and Rocinante to a carriage and ride back to the portal, wary of the white mist that’s creeping closer to the Dark One’s lands now. “We should make it in time.” 

 

“I hope so.” Regina leans against her. Henry is inside the carriage with their unconscious captives, watching over them with a sword that Regina thinks he’s too young to bear. Emma is driving the carriage, and Regina has the dagger on her lap, turning it over and over again to stare at the smooth blade that bears no name.

 

“Thank you,” Emma says suddenly.

 

“What?” 

 

“For…” She bites her lip. “I’m not okay with the years I missed,” she says. “I’m never going to be okay with them. But I don’t blame you.” 

 

Regina winces. “It was my curse–“ 

 

“It was Blue and Cora. It was…” Emma laughs, a burst of air almost giddy in the threat of the night. “It was _fate_. Fuck fate.” 

 

Regina is silent, twisting fingers around the hilt of the dagger. Emma says, “I just…I know I wasn’t there for a decade of his life. But that kid– that idiot kid who runs into danger to save his moms and–“ Silent tears spill down her face. She’s done it twice, now, lived her life without Henry, and she’d take the time when she’d known what she’d lost over the spider’s vision any day. 

 

And her good, brave, _stupidly_ noble son…he is _everything_. She can’t imagine him ever being anyone other than the boy Regina had given her. “When I couldn’t…I’m so glad that you were the one to raise him, Regina. I’m so proud to be his mom with you. _Thank you_.” 

 

Regina is silent and Emma thinks she might’ve gone too far– revealed too much– when she glances over at her and sees that she’s crying too, silent and just as hard as Emma. “I love you,” Emma says. They’d never said it very often before. Emma had been afraid that it would feel cheap, if she’d said it every time she’d felt it. But tonight it’s a balm of reassurance in a world about to end. 

 

“You do,” Regina says, voice no louder than a whisper. And there are other ways to say  _I love you_ back without repeating the words.

 

The mist is nearly at Sir Maurice’s lands, and Emma guides Beetle and Rocinante around to the portal, breathing a sigh of relief as she sees that it’s still open. Blue might know what they’re up to, but at least she hasn’t yet found Tamara. 

 

“Let’s go!” Emma calls, and it echoes strangely in the incoming mist, like words devoured by a black hole of silence. “Get the others. We'll take the horses through.” She unhitches the carriage as Regina levitates Milah and Belle, stepping through the portal with her hands on theirs to direct them all back to Tamara.

 

“One last push, Beetle,” she murmurs to her horse, rubbing his snout. “Get my boy home.” He nuzzles her hair affectionately and she breathes in this final scent– Beetle and Emma in the Enchanted Forest– one last time. 

 

This time, the horses shy from the portal less and Henry crosses through it as Emma mounts Rocinante. “Come on, boy!” The mist is closing in on them, just across the market from the portal, and Emma bears through it as the mist reaches them in eerie silence.

 

And then chaos.

 

There’s a moment of darkness and then a burst of light, and Emma catches Tamara’s face for only an instant before something hard hits her from above. The barn is caving in from the force of the portal. Debris is hurtling down around her, and there’s a low rumbling as though they’ve summoned up an earthquake below. “Hurry up!” Tamara is shouting over the noise. “You need to–“ 

 

Emma rides blindly through the falling barn, seeing stars as more of the roof collapses. Rocinante neighs loudly in protest, charging forward with one last spurt of energy, and they clear the barn just as the whole thing collapses. 

 

Emma breathes a sigh of relief. “Just in time,” she says, turning to Regina on the ground beside her, as dazed as she is from stray chunks of ceiling. She frowns, noticing who’s absent. “Where’s Henry? Didn’t he come through the portal?” 

 

“He did.” It’s Tamara who speaks, voice low and eyes fixed on the fallen building in front of them. It’s sunken into itself now but there’s still crashing inside it, the last bits of the infrastructure falling apart. “He never made it out of the barn.” 

 


	20. Chapter 20

In an instant, Regina and Emma are tearing for the barn as one. “No, no, no,” Emma is chanting, Regina in grim silence behind her. “Not after all this. Not Henry. No–“ Regina is hurling chunks of the rafters aside and Emma races through the cleared space, shoving debris aside to find a hint of their son. 

 

She touches matted, bloodied hair instead. “Beetle. Beetle, _please_ –“ Regina raises both hands to throw wooden beams to the side, unearthing the rest of the horse. And curled beneath him, half-covered by Beetle’s torso, is a shaking Henry. “ _Henry_!” 

 

“Ma! Mom!” He stumbles up and falls, one leg at an odd angle beneath the horse, and they both wrap him into their embrace before he can hit the ground again. Emma’s heart is expanding, expanding, larger and larger until she can’t quite breath with her chest so full and her eyes are getting foggy. “I tried to…” He’s gesturing down, frantic to tell them. “I couldn’t move fast enough. And Beetle threw me and then stood over me– I think he was trying to protect me– Do horses do that–?“ 

 

He’s babbling and babbling, red-eyed and terrified, and Emma finally kneels to press a hand to Beetle's chest. He’s still, silent and unmoving as he’s never been before, and Emma sucks in a breath and whispers, “He’s dead.” 

 

He’s been her loyal companion for longer than anyone in the universe, stayed with her through prison sentences and through tangles with kings and then from one realm to the next. They say that animal companions in magical realms begin to develop human characteristics after enough time, display understanding and affection that should be beyond them, and Beetle’s been hers for so long that she knows instinctively that he’d sacrificed himself to save her son.

 

She blinks back angry, useless tears and turns to Henry. “You’re okay,” she says. “That’s all that matters right now.” He can’t feel guilty for this. _Blue_ is to blame, not their portal or how quickly they’d escaped the barn. She leans against Beetle one last time, hands gentle at his mane, and Regina strokes her shoulder and holds Henry to her as they crouch over Beetle together. 

 

“He took good care of you,” she murmurs. “He took good care of us because we were yours.” And it’s a small comfort, but Emma takes it. 

 

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go kick Blue’s ass.”

 

When she turns, she can see them approaching; Blue and a horde of fairies, all brightly colored in the dark. Trailing behind them is Zelena, dressed in a green cloak that sparkles in comparison to the one Emma’s wearing, shining iridescent like a dragonfly. 

 

The clearing in front of the collapsed barn is beginning to brighten with Blue’s light, and Emma and Regina lift Henry between them and haul him out of the barn. They only need to exchange glances once to recognize that they’re in agreement when they bring him to Tamara. “You have to keep him safe,” Regina says, her eyes hard as they bore into Henry’s onetime kidnapper.

 

And Tamara nods, quick and solemn. “Yeah, I can do that,” she says, and Regina presses the dagger into her free hand. 

 

“Hold this,” she says, and Emma finally turns from them to watch Blue’s approach. As that blue beacon of light shines brighter, Emma can finally see them– hordes of townspeople pouring from the woods, their way to Emma and Regina lit up at last.

 

It’s like an eerie performance. There’s nothing to illuminate the night but multicolored light from the fairies, barely self-contained, and the cloak that Zelena wears that’s been dusted with fairy light. And everywhere Emma looks, there are faces of friends and allies and those she’s helped over the years– and now they’re dead-eyed and shaded with the colors of the fairies, silent as they claw at her.

 

Emma nearly draws her bow but thinks better of it. She can’t hurt innocents. “Knock them out,” Tamara calls from the general area of the barn wreck. She’s staying away from the light, and Emma can barely see her face glinting from beside Henry’s. 

 

“Thanks for your input,” Regina calls back snidely. She turns to Emma. “We knock them out.” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Blue is nearly upon them, and she laughs derisively. “Do you think you can defeat a whole town of your friends?” She turns, gesturing Zelena forward. “Come, child.” Her tone is cloying, closer to Glinda’s than her own as she speaks. “There is still good in you.” Zelena stares up at her, wide-eyed and needy. “Defeat this evil, dear, and you will be worthy at last.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Emma breathes as Zelena turns to face Regina. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck you_.” It’s in the blasé way that she controls Zelena, in the way she easily repeats all the arguments that Zelena’s been parroting since Emma had met her. It’s in the shameless manipulation that’s undoing all the work Regina has put into her, and in the fact that Zelena reaches out and hurls a fireball at Regina’s chest.

 

Regina’s jaw tightens. She catches the fireball, letting it fade away in her hand, and then fires a bolt of invisible energy toward Zelena to ward her off. Hands grasp at her and Emma swats them away, kicks people back and throws them to the ground. Under the influence of the fairy-kindness, they’re slow to rise again, and others surge forward over them.

 

“Three hundred years in the making and you think you can stop me now?” Blue trills from above them. “The babies are born. Dorothy will still open the portal. And the land is cleansed at last. And all you’re doing here is fighting a battle when you’ve already lost the war. _Humans_ ,” she says, a touch of irritation in her voice.

 

“We’re irrational like that,” Emma supplies, elbowing Red in the face. She sinks to the ground, her pained reaction sluggish. “We’re not actually all that impressed by how old you are.” 

 

“Reul Ghorm is older than three hundred.” Emma knows Blue’s other name but when it rolls off Regina’s tongue, ancient and impressive, it makes her shudder. Above her, the other fairies murmur dazedly, a quiet and insistent buzz. Regina ducks Zelena’s next blow and goes for a punch, drawing blood from Zelena’s mouth. Zelena’s eyes flicker for a moment with recognition. “This grand plan, though…” 

 

“One bean to take the Dark One’s son from him,” Blue says triumphantly. Neal is somewhere behind her now, and Emma twists, shoving at him as Zelena’s magic ricochets off Regina’s shield and slams into the man beside him– _Runs-With-Wolves._ He drops to the ground, his eyes deader than before. “Men are weak. Men are easily swayed. To find him, the Dark One would create a curse so despicable that I could never be tainted with.” 

 

“You had him do your dirty work. I’m stunned,” Regina grits out, her eyes on her sister. Their palms are inches away from each other now, gusts of wind hurled at each other and their own wind their protection. Around them, more townspeople are thrown backward.

 

Blue smiles. “And then he had you do his, didn’t you? If not for _Cora–_ ” The disgust is clear in her voice. “I would have had the land cleansed long ago. I had my acolyte from Neverland return you all to the Enchanted Forest to cast the curse again.” 

 

“That’s why you took Zelena when we were children? As a _backup plan_?” Regina sounds disbelieving. “Zelena, would you just _listen_ to her?” 

 

“Glinda,” Zelena whimpers, still lost. 

 

Blue just sighs. “Quarrelsome children. Pugnacious and, essentially, useless.” She flutters back. “I will let you devour yourselves, as you always do.” 

 

There are still townspeople rising up to devour Emma now, unbothered by how easily she fights them off. They aren’t a challenge as much as an annoyance, a way to…

 

To…

 

They’re a _diversion_ , and Emma looks around wildly, seeking what it is that she’s being kept from. The babies. The babies are the key to this. And Blue wants them delivered through a portal but she hasn’t yet. _Why?_

 

She tears through the crowd, moving away from Regina instead of around her, and Blue shouts, “Stop her!” as Regina calls her name. 

 

The fairies converge upon her, hurling ineffectual fairy dust at Emma as she keeps her head down and runs, climbing onto Rocinante again and swinging them in the direction of the convent. Riding another horse so soon after Beetle’s demise feels a little like cheating, and she ducks her head guiltily and urges Rocinante faster. 

 

They reach the convent but it’s nearly empty, Mulan and Lancelot gone and Snow and Aurora asleep in their beds. The babies are gone, and Emma feels the first surge of hope they’ve had since Blue had arrived again. 

 

“Emma?” Regina is still calling in the dark when she rides back.

 

“Emma has abandoned you,” Blue says, tranquil. “Emma might love you, but she loves surviving more. Haven’t you realized that by now?” 

 

Emma drops from Rocinante silently, drawing her bow. Regina hesitates and Emma’s blood runs cold. After all this time, all this _work_ , has she still…? 

 

And then Regina scoffs, her voice strong, and Emma’s heart sings with relief. “You have no idea who Emma is, do you?” 

 

And Emma fires one shot, grazing past Blue so close that her blue light dims for a moment. “She really doesn’t,” she agrees. “And she’s bluffing.” 

 

“Am I?” Blue’s voice is lower now, more dangerous as she rounds on Emma. “What new lies will you invent to convince your lover to murder her sister?” Regina flinches.

 

Emma says, “So David took the babies over the town line, huh?” and fires again. 

 

The other fairies swoop down to stop her and she shoot at them, too, watching as they scatter and then converge again. Regina laughs, loud and mocking. “That’s what this is. You’ve been trying to keep us from finding out that we’re the ones who won this one.” 

 

“You haven’t won anything,” Blue says, her voice chilly. “I will retrieve the children from corruption. I’ve spent hundreds of years as the White family fairy godmother and not for naught. This is how the story has always been destined to unfold.”

 

And Emma remembers, very suddenly, a moment in the woods with Blue, moments after she’d revealed that she’d been the one to put Henry in the wardrobe. _Another backup plan_. The curse broken in case the first curse hadn’t rid the Enchanted Forest of its denizens. Or…?

 

Blue had told her, sweet and comforting,  _You had the courage to change others’ destiny in ways that even fairies never could._

 

_Even fairies._

 

And Blue is here now to fight them. Blue knows how this will end. Blue is here instead of forcing her people over the town line to stop David because she knows that Emma and Regina are destined to…? 

 

“We’re going to stop you, aren’t we?” Emma asks. Regina looks at her in surprise and nearly misses a blow from Zelena. “That’s why you’ve put in so much effort to slowing us. You didn’t need Regina’s sister to cast the curse. You took her and you used her against Regina because you wanted Regina dead. You tried to _assassinate_ Regina.” Confidence blossoms within her, understanding at the edges of her thoughts. “You’ve been doing everything you could for years to try and push Regina and me apart. You took _Henry_. You took my courage to believe in Regina.” 

 

“I took only what you offered,” Blue retorts. “You were your own destruction. You didn’t need me to push it along.” She dodges an arrow that gets too close and Emma catches it where it drops and nocks it again. “You won’t stop me.” 

 

“You saw us at the end,” Regina murmurs. “You saw us here together. And we…?” She turns to Zelena. “Zelena,” she says, a touch of fondness under the frustration. “You useless  _idiot_. Stop fighting me.” 

 

Zelena wavers in place for a moment. The next moment, she gears up for another blow. “Zelena,” Regina repeats irritably, hurling a fireball at her. 

 

Blue raises her hands. “Come, children!” she calls. “Protect a better future!” The townspeople rise with her, the dwarves leading the pack with their pickaxes in hand. They swing at Emma, focused more now than they’d been before, and Emma has to put her bow away and fumble for a knife instead. She dodges, she ducks, and they bear forward still. 

 

Regina and Zelena are at a standstill now, back to the same attacks at the same time, one deflecting the other and townspeople caught in the crossfire. Regina curses and throws up shields for them, too, the energy draining out of her twice as quickly. 

 

Emma drops to the ground and rolls, a pickaxe spearing the dirt beside her. Regina is still shouting at Zelena. “I know you’re in there. I know that Blue has you…under her damned fairy dust, but enough is enough! I let Glinda take you once,” she says, and her voice is lower now, heavy with guilt. From her vantage point a few feet away, Emma sees Zelena’s eyes flicker. “I won’t let her take you from me again.” 

 

Zelena freezes. Regina drops her hands, letting her defenses go, and Emma lets out a low curse. It won’t work. Blue’s loaded her up with too much fairy dust, and whatever immunities Zelena might have built up, she’s completely under Blue’s curse this time. 

 

“Come home to us, Zelena,” Regina whispers, and Zelena crumbles. Her hands are at her head and she shivers violently, an agonized cry tearing from her mouth. Her eyes are still fixed on Regina and she doesn’t budge, doesn’t fight or flee or surrender, just stares hopelessly. Regina steps to her, cautious as she moves forward, and Zelena shakes and shakes and shakes until she reaches for Regina and holds her tight, breathing hard with silent sobs.

 

Emma exhales, dodging Happy and Grumpy tag-teaming her as she watches them in the fairy light. Zelena is hanging onto Regina like a lifeline and Regina is kissing the top of her head, comforting as though she’s looking after Henry, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words to her sister. 

 

Zelena doesn’t look much older than a child in this moment, vulnerable and wide-eyed and so desperate as she retreats into Regina’s arms. Blue is crooning something, too, but it’s impotent in the face of the sisters’ embrace, of the way they only tighten their grips on each other when she attacks.

 

And Emma sees the way that Blue glows even brighter. Emma sees what Regina doesn’t, so caught up in Zelena as she is. Blue is drawing energy from the stars themselves, from the fairies around her, shining with more and more light until she’s glowing like the sun and Emma can’t see a thing, but she knows–

 

She _knows_ –

 

She runs without a second thought, stumbling with her cloak drawn around her; her eyes half-closed with the glare of Blue’s sunshine, bright and pure and deadly. She pulls her hood over her head in an attempt to shield herself from some of it but there’s no _time_ , it’s too _late–_

 

_It’s never too late_ , Emma thinks idly, and cuts in between Blue and Regina as Blue hurls every last ounce of energy she’d collected at Regina and Zelena.

 

Regina shouts, “ _Emma!_ ” and the magic hits like a sledgehammer, pouring into Emma with so much force that it feels as though her lungs and stomach have collapsed for a moment. Regina is still screaming but it’s all dulled, drowned out with the immensity of the blow, and Emma is nothing but bright light and silence.

 

_Is this death?_ she wonders for one dazed moment. Her cloak is spread around her in tattered pieces,  shredded by the magic around her and the hood shining as brightly as Blue over her head, and she thinks that this is how she’d like to go– as Swan Hood, as Regina’s, fighting all the way until the end. 

 

_Wait._  She hesitates, moving slowly with the power surging through her. This is beyond true love’s kiss, beyond warmth rising through her and magic in the pit of her belly. This is magic _everywhere_ , sharpening her senses to hyperaware levels. And there’s someone else in the whiteness now, glowing from the light she’s casting out, and Emma says, distraught, _Regina?_ Had she failed to take the blow?

 

But Regina is haloed in light magic, her own and Blue’s, and she’s mouthing something again and again and again that Emma can’t understand. She steps closer to Emma, stroking a hand along her back, and it emerges with Emma’s bow and an arrow. 

 

And Emma realizes what she’s mouthing. _Shoot_ , Regina is saying. _Shoot, Lady Swan._

 

Emma raises the bow and the arrow glows, the magic around her converging on it, and she can finally see beyond the bow. Blue is in front of them, fluttering higher and her eyes bright with fear, and Emma draws back her bow and fires.

 

The arrow flies true, taking all of Blue’s magic with it, and it hits its target with well-honed precision.

 

Blue dies like a supernova, her magic expanding outward and then in again, sucking in the light and blotting out everything around them for a moment before she disappears. There is a new star above them, gleaming an unnatural blue in the night sky, and Regina leans into Emma’s embrace as they gape up at it together.

 

And then light bursts from the place where Blue had vanished, radiating outward in ring after ring, freeing the people around them of fairy-kindness as swiftly as it had taken them. It comes and comes and comes, each one lighter than the next, and when one ring disappears, another one comes until the town is as bright as daylight and there’s a ring of energy hovering above them.

 

Emma sees Henry below it and panics for a moment, suspecting the worst, but Regina lays a hand on her wrist. “Wait,” she says. “Not Henry.” Tamara is still standing beside him, the dagger in one hand and the wand in her other, and the ring of energy waits above her expectantly.

 

Tamara doesn’t move for a long minute and the ring of energy begins to dissipate, ceding defeat for whatever it’s been offering. But then she raises the dagger and the wand together and the energy hurtles into her at last, burning multicolored and strong.

 

* * *

 

“We were wrong about those ingredients,” Henry says, breathless as he charges out of the house and staggers to a stop in front of the porch table. “The babe, the wand, the dagger. It didn’t mean an _actual_ baby.” He nods over to the other end of the patio, where Snow and David are huddled over tiny Ruth in the stroller, oohing and ahhing every time she moves. “A babe. A potential fairy. It wasn’t about Blue’s goals, it was about crowning a new…fairy queen, or whatever.” 

 

They all glance toward the duo in the corner of the yard that's being given a wide berth. Tamara and Zelena are perched on their lawn chairs side by side, Zelena saying something scornful that Tamara rolls her eyes in response to. A few of the fairies have arrived at their victory party uninvited, hovering behind Tamara like they’re still not quite sure what to make of the two of them. Zelena says something else, clearly directed to them, and Tamara politely conceals a smirk with her hand.

 

This is their victory celebration, a bit muted by what some cynics have labeled the defeat of good by evil. There had been an obligatory afternoon shindig at the diner, but Snow had been insistent that they have a quieter, more intimate gathering for close family and friends. Emma suspects that that’s more about the dirty looks that some of their party have gotten when they’ve stepped out into the town.

 

“Belle helped me translate more of the book,” Henry says. “The thing it talked about a lot was that Blue was never supposed to be the ultimate fairy. To lead the fairies, you have to have light and dark within you, and Blue had only light, right?” 

 

Emma nods indulgently. “The dagger leeched out all of the darkness from her mother before she was born.” 

 

“Darkness isn’t always _badness_ ,” Henry says, and his eyes move to his other mother now, probing for a reaction. Regina’s brow furrows dubiously, but she listens. “Just like light isn’t always good. _Clearly._ You have to have the right mix of both. So Tamara using the dagger and the wand to take the fairy magic means that she’s going to be the kind of fairy Blue was supposed to be.” 

 

“Fairy politics.” Regina leans back in her seat. “I’m already getting a headache at how many new laws I’m going to have to institute to incorporate _those_.” But she’s beaming, glowing with pride for Henry and for their victory the night before.

 

Emma shakes her head. “But none of this explains why Blue’s magic just kind of…stuck to me.” They’d staggered to bed last night, exhausted and relieved to be alive, and Emma had asked the question but fallen asleep before Regina had given her an answer. This morning, they’d been much too busy in said bed to talk about much of anything.

 

“No, it doesn’t. That wasn’t Blue,” Regina murmurs, sliding her fingers along Emma’s arm. “I told you I enchanted your cloak. It didn’t survive that attack, but it did its job.” 

 

“You enchanted it to…?” 

 

“Withstand any magical blows. I wanted you to stay safe.” There’s a dark cast to her eyes now, history that they still can’t escape, and Emma understands with dawning wonder. 

 

“But…back then…the only person who I knew who used magic was…” A young Regina, sending her off into the night because she’d chosen darkness over love. Regina had enchanted Emma’s cloak to protect Emma from _herself_.

 

Regina shrugs. “I thought– someday– I might do something I’d regret forever,” she admits, and Emma remembers a dozen times when Regina had been panicked over the cloak’s disappearance, when she’d demanded again and again its whereabouts. For all their distance, Regina had only ever wanted Emma safe. “I did, eventually,” Regina admits. “You never wore the cloak after I was exiled.” 

 

She’d been angry– first at herself and then at Regina– and she’d wanted no reminder of Regina’s love around her. Now she sits in a shirt and jeans, the ruined cloak buried in the ground with Beetle, and she has other reminders of Regina’s love. 

 

She leans over, kissing her languidly as Henry groans and stalks off across the lawn to see the baby. When they separate, Regina is grinning with her lips pressed together in a failing attempt to tamp down her joy right now. Emma has no such compunctions. “We did this together,” she says. Emma’s arrow, Regina’s enchantment. Swan Hood and the Evil Queen, as Blue must have foreseen. 

 

“Blue wasn’t wrong about that,” Regina says when Emma mentions it. “Whatever she might have done to manipulate us…we were active participants in it. I won’t deny my own part in it. I don’t want to deny it.” Regina still clings to her agency with fierce desire, claims it every time she can without fail. 

 

“No,” Emma agrees. “But we made it through.” 

 

“We made it through,” Regina whispers, and kisses her again.

 

“Whenever you’re done,” Henry says crossly, lifting a bag. “I have food.” 

 

“Food?” Emma perks up.

 

“ _Good_ food.” 

 

Regina sighs. “You both just ate hot dogs a half hour ago. What is this?” 

 

“Belle and I went shopping during research?” Henry tries. Regina levels a glare at him. He sighs deeply. “Mom, it’s for _Ma._ I wanted her to try out some of this realm’s best–“ 

 

Regina is already fishing through the bag. “Henry, these are just candy bars.” She sounds exasperated by it. Emma mostly just hears the _candy_ part. 

 

Henry snatches up a carton from the bag. “And pastries! See?” 

 

“I think I should try the pastries,” Emma says gravely. Henry nods, somber. “It’s important for me to learn more about this world.”

 

Regina scowls at them both. “Fine. Eat your pastries. Don’t expect me to hold your hair back when you’re up all night vomiting!” she tosses over her shoulder, stalking toward Snow and David with the baby.

 

The baby is _Ruth_ , named for the mother Emma had barely known, and Emma doesn’t know why she’d teared up over it when they’d announced it. It’s been an emotional week. She isn’t overly sentimental. It’s _fine_. 

 

Regina lifts Ruth up with a kind of awe, gazing into her eyes and rocking her like a natural. _Well_. Regina’s always been a natural with babies when she hadn’t been plotting dark curses or murder. There’s a traitorous tugging at Emma’s heart at the sight of it, Regina in her Storybrooke garb rocking a baby and cooing to her, and she goes somewhere for a moment. Somewhere they’re _definitely_ not ready for. Not yet.

 

When she smells chocolate, she returns to the present, relieved at the cap on her own emotions. Henry is doling out pieces of candy to the Merry Men, all of them settling onto the chairs around them as they examine their food. “This is called…a peep?” Mulan asks, eyeing her marshmallow. “Why is it shaped like a rabbit? Is this how you pretend to hunt here?” 

 

“This just seems tacky,” Will says, waving around a bar called a _Baby Ruth_. 

 

“And I have– Wait, Aunt Zelena!” Henry waves to her. The Merry Men all stiffen. They may have been de-winged, but they’re still less than thrilled about being flying monkeys in the first place. Which… _fair_. “I got something for you!” 

 

Zelena perks up, making her way over to them. Tamara follows, glaring warningly at the Merry Men as Zelena peers over Henry’s shoulder. “What…is this…?” she says, her voice a growl as though she isn’t sure if she’s being mocked or not.

 

“It’s called a Pez dispenser! See, the candy comes out of your mouth over here!” Henry shows her and Emma tries not to laugh.

 

Zelena’s eyes are bulging out a little and Tamara bites her lip hard, eyes glittering with amusement. “My nose is not that long!” Zelena sputters, gesturing at the green-faced character on the dispenser.

 

Tamara claps her hand against Zelena’s back, mock-comforting. “It could be worse. My movie version was a _white girl_.” She snatches the dispenser from Henry and pops the mouth open, snatching a candy and popping it into her mouth. Zelena gapes at her, outraged. 

 

Emma sits down with them, the Merry Men following her lead and moving closer. Regina, perhaps sensing a disaster, hurries over to take a seat between Little John and Zelena, her fingers twining with Emma’s as she does. “How are you settling in?” Emma asks Tamara. Zelena is living with them for the time being, but Tamara had opted to stay with the fairies.

 

“I’m not going to be a nun,” Tamara says immediately. “I want to make that clear. I didn’t make it through Oz to wear a _habit_.” 

 

“We don’t wear habits,” one of the fairies says helpfully. “We do try to observe every Sunday, though.” 

 

“Fabulous.” Tamara rubs her temples. “This is…not what I signed up for. I don’t even know _what_ I signed up for. I was just trying to do the right thing.” She reaches into her bag and for a moment, Emma almost believes that she’s going for the taser again.

 

Instead, she retrieves a pair of shoes. “I think these belong to you now,” she says, offering them to Regina.

 

Zelena snorts. “Have you been sitting here all this time waiting to return _my_ shoes to my _sister_?” Tamara grins at her, irreverent and smug, and Zelena rolls her eyes, cheeks pinking. “Go right ahead. I don’t care,” she says unconvincingly.

 

“You’re a flight risk,” Regina says sternly. “You aren’t going anywhere with those slippers.” But to offset her tone, she lays her head against Zelena’s shoulder. Zelena looks at her, startled at the affection, and her cheeks grow pinker still.

 

“Ma, this is for you,” Henry says, rescuing Zelena from saying anything too sappy or off-putting. “It’s called a bear claw. I thought that since you liked the donuts–“ 

 

“Oh. Oh, _god_.” Emma takes another bite of the pastry. “What is– how did they– this is better than donuts. Or pizza. This is–“ She chews some more, closing her eyes in wonder at the consistency of the sugar– no, _almonds_. “This is the happiest day of my life.” 

 

Regina buries her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I share a child with you.” 

 

Lancelot pats her on the shoulder as he moves across the yard, wandering toward Snow and David and leaving his seat empty. It’s claimed by Neal, who slides into the seat and then immediately spots Tamara across the table. His eyes narrow. “Tamara.” 

 

“Neal,” Tamara says pleasantly. Henry pokes her side in silent reproof. “Sorry about that time I shot you,” she says sulkily. Henry pokes her again. She adds, equally reluctant, “And pretended to be in love with you. And posed as your fiancé to destroy this town. Really sorry.” Zelena sniggers. Neal scowls.

 

Emma says, “I don’t want to know. Bear claw?” He takes the proffered pastry and settles down next to Mulan, still glaring at Tamara. Zelena gives him a stink eye for his trouble.

 

When Emma finishes her bear claw and a chocolate bar, she follows Lancelot to Snow and David, settling down on the steps as she eyes her new niece. “Hey, kid,” she croons, letting Ruth settle into her arms. The baby is tiny, smaller than Henry had ever been, and she blinks sleepy eyes shut as Emma gazes in awe. That frustrating _tugging_ is happening again, that lurking feeling of _someday_ that she’d never dared dream of before, and when she looks up, it’s to Regina gazing at them with the same quiet longing. 

 

“You’re both so good with her,” Snow says, and her eyes are knowing. Emma shrugs, incapable of talking about this just yet. Lancelot puts an arm around Emma and tickles Ruth’s chin, a buffer zone between her and the conversation she can’t yet have with Snow.

 

The yard is well-lit with chatter and baby talk and celebration, and no one notices when Emma passes the baby back and slips away from the crowd, tugging Regina with her as they duck outside. They’re laughing at their escape, walking hand-in-hand in the dark as they haven’t since they’d been teenagers at a masquerade ball, and Emma can finally do what she’d wanted to all those years ago and back Regina against the side wall of the house and kiss her.

 

Her hands are against the wall, tucked under Regina’s back, and Regina’s smiling into the kiss, cupping Emma’s face against hers as she keeps her steady against her. Emma’s fingers dip down, slipping under Regina's dress to stroke her inner thigh suggestively, and Regina whispers, “Shh,” and doesn’t protest when Emma hoists her up to wrap her legs around Emma’s waist.

 

“How far away are we from the yard?” Emma breathes in her ear, discovering with delight that Regina had opted for nothing more than a scrap of lace under her dress. She slides a finger past it, wriggling against Regina's clit, and Regina shudders hard and bites the shell of her ear in approval. 

 

And then harder. “Someone’s coming,” she hisses, and Emma pinches her vaunted spot within Regina once, enough to have Regina squirming against her, and leans forward to fade into the shadows. “This is a terrible idea,” Regina mutters, sucking in a breath.

 

“Shh,” Emma echoes her, and she moves rapidly as two shadows approach, twisting her fingers inside Regina. She attack Regina’s collarbone with her lips and brings her closer and closer to the edge, her free hand clasped over Regina’s mouth warningly. Regina shudders again as the passersby near, teeth sinking into Emma’s palm as she muffles a cry; and only then does Emma retract her hands and set Regina down, sucking wetness off her fingers as she recognizes their intruders at last.

 

It’s Belle and Milah, close enough that their shoulders are touching, and they pause just a few feet from where Regina and Emma are hidden in the shadows. For a moment, Emma thinks that they’ve been exposed, but then Milah says something in a murmur that has Belle tittering and turning, arms sliding around Milah’s neck as she kisses her with the ease of a longtime lover.

 

They walk on, and Regina says, “You know, I _had_ wondered–“ 

 

“Me too,” Emma says, and they both laugh helplessly, leaning on each other with their still-unsteady feet. 

 

The mood is still light, a breeze whipping past them and leaving them windswept and bright-cheeked as they clean up and stroll back out toward the yard. It’s unexpected when Regina says, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but decades ago…when I was a young queen…I met Tinkerbell then. She offered to find me my soulmate.”

 

“Yeah.” She’s even seen it in the spider’s vision, Regina at the door of the tavern while Emma drinks inside, fleeing rather than meeting her. In the real version, Regina had gone inside and spoken to her instead. “It’s not like it’s anything I couldn’t have told you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You needed a fairy for that?” 

 

Regina sighs expansively. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” 

 

“I’m your _soulmate_.” Emma nudges her. “Whatever that means.” She can guess what it means now, caught as they’ve been in each other’s orbit for all this time. “We chose each other years ago and never really let go, did we?” 

 

“We never really wanted to.” Regina stares up at the sky and Emma follows suit, her eyes landing on the unnaturally bright blue star that still remains there. The fairies are sure it will dim in time, as every fairy does after death, but Blue is unsurprisingly stubborn. “I don’t think it was ever about designating you as something that I hadn’t already decided on.” 

 

“Yeah.” They’d been two girls lost, abused and neglected and fighting the world in their own ways. They’d met when they’d thought they’d been hardened by the world but had been vulnerable all the same, and they’d fallen in love until they’d been doomed for it.

 

And somehow, they’ve still managed to come out of this together; fought tooth and nail every step of the way to be here tonight, holding hands and strolling through Storybrooke without a care in the world. And Emma isn’t foolish enough to believe that this is the end, but it _could_ be. This could be completion. 

 

It’s certainly a beginning. 

 

She tucks her hand into Regina’s more tightly and walks to the back of the house, blinking in the bright light of the yard. Snow and David are wrapping up, tugging Red up from a corner to walk back with them. The Merry Men are getting restless– are Mulan and Neal _arm-wrestling_? (Mulan easily wins that one, and Will collects chocolate bars from the ones who’d bet against her, very smug.) 

 

Milah and Belle are standing on opposite ends of the table, a comfortable distance apart again. “I told you not to bet on him,” Milah is saying reprovingly to Little John. 

 

“My own mother.” Neal rolls his eyes and Milah reaches out and musses his hair soothingly. He ducks away from her, wincing as the rest of the Men snicker.

 

“Milah,” Emma calls. “I think you should challenge Mulan and defend Neal’s honor.” She smiles sweetly, winking at Mulan, and the people around her hoot and place their bets. Regina tucks herself under Emma’s arm, a whispered _You ass_ so low that her teeth graze Emma’s ear as she murmurs it.

 

“I’m going to head out, too,” Tamara says after a fierce battle that ends with Milah’s defeat, and she closes her eyes and transforms in a burst of light, a tiny fairy springing through the sky in a short dress and jeans. The other fairies follow suit and Zelena watches them all go, her expression wistful. 

 

“You okay?” Emma ventures.

 

“She loves flying,” Zelena says. “She told me that earlier. I do love flying, too. It’s…freeing, after all this time.” 

 

“Maybe someday you’ll fly together.” Emma entertains the image in her mind, the witch on her broom and the fairy fluttering beside her, and it’s oddly charming in very non-Zelena-and-Tamara ways. 

 

Zelena turns to watch her for a moment, long and thoughtful. “Maybe,” she says, and she sounds very serious about it. 

 

And soon enough, it’s just the four of them cleaning up the yard, putting away plates and chairs and tidying up the barbecue area. Zelena claims exhaustion when they’re done and Regina sends Henry to bed. “School night,” she claims, frowning at the leftover hot dogs and buns. “And I…have to go bring these back to Granny’s or I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

 

It’s a very terrible excuse for what Regina actually wants to do, and Emma is only too happy to pick up on it. “Right. I’ll come with you,” she offers, blinking inconspicuously. Zelena stares at them, her lip curling in disgust.

 

Henry says, “I’ll just…go to bed.” He ducks for the stairs, pressing a kiss to Regina’s cheek and then Emma’s, and makes a hasty escape. 

 

“I’m going to grab something upstairs. That I need to return to Red.” Emma flushes at Zelena’s unimpressed stare. Why they’d invited a witch to live in the room next door to them during this new honeymoon period, Emma still doesn’t know. And Zelena has no qualms about yelling at them through the walls, as they’d discovered this morning. Regina has been looking for a decent soundproofing spell that will stay up when they’re otherwise occupied.

 

Regina smiles, slow and predatory. “I’ll wait in the car.” 

 

She hesitates at Henry’s door, watching him as he fishes around under his bed for his pajamas. “It’s so gross, watching you two and _knowing_ what you’re going to do,” he complains.

 

“Sorry, kid.” 

 

“It’s…it’s kind of okay, I guess.” He says it a bit glumly, but he also offers her a tentative smile. “I’m glad you’re both here and…and in love. _Really_ in love. I never thought that we’d really get this.” 

 

“Neither did I,” Emma whispers, her voice unexpectedly hoarse. “I think…I spent a lot of my life searching for this piece of me that was missing, and it’s…” She can’t quite finish the thought, not even in front of a boy who means everything to her.

 

But he seems to understand, his eyes softening even more as he watches her struggle for words. “Goodnight, Ma,” he says, smiling up at her again. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He squeezes her hand once and she steps back, shutting the door behind him.

 

And she doesn’t know how to describe tonight to Henry or Regina except that it feels like family again, like home beyond cabins in the woods and rooms in a castle. It feels like there’s more to their lives than their own stubbornness and failings constricting around them, leading to an inevitable conclusion. It feels like  _soulmates_ , whatever that means.

 

She picks up the item she’d needed, hidden deep within one of Regina’s drawers, and tucks it into her waistband like she might have a knife, once. And because old habits die hard, she climbs out onto the balcony and makes her way down to the top of the garage, landing on the top of the car in the driveway with a thump. 

 

She crouches on top of the car like she’s seventeen and robbing coaches again, the wind whipping through her hair and her jacket. The car starts in response, Regina unimpressed with her posturing, and Emma ducks down and slides through the door the other woman had already opened for her. 

 

In the opposite seat of the car, a dark-haired woman, stunningly beautiful, turns to stare at Emma. “Swan Hood,” Regina drawls. “How nice of you to drop in.” 

 

* * *

 

 

 _[Hope](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171619) is the thing with feathers _  
_That perches in the soul,_  
_And sings the tune--without the words,_  
_And never stops at all,_

 _And sweetest in the gale is heard;_  
_And sore must be the storm_  
_That could abash the little bird_  
_That kept so many warm._

 _I've heard it in the chillest land,_  
_And on the strangest sea;_  
_Yet, never, in extremity,_  
_It asked a crumb of me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year and a half later, IT'S DONE. I'm a little in shock, lmao- this has been a massive undertaking and I can't believe we've finally hit the end! Thank you so much to all of you for sticking with me throughout this– I know that we've ranged from ~horrifyingly depressing~ all the way up to ~mildly depressing~ and I did want to give you a happy sendoff, at least. They beat the bad guy!
> 
> Much, much thanks go also to MM, who has spent an obscene amount of time listening to me plot this fic, to Maia for the same and to all the people along the way who've been enthusiastic about this story- with art or meta or feedback- and kept me going. I think that this is one of the most commented fics on AO3 for Swan Queen right now even though it doesn't have nearly the readership of the other fics up there– and I think that really says plenty about how wonderful y'all have been to me. I couldn't have done it without your encouragement. <333
> 
> And finally, [here](http://coalitiongirl.tumblr.com/tagged/smbts-art) is the stunning artwork created by various people for this series, and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4594806) you can find a small oneshot that takes place after heartlines. Enjoy!


End file.
